


A Night Without Regret

by shutupeccles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Bisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Multi, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-20
Updated: 2011-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin receives an anonymous invitation to a party and discovers a secret, complex and erotic society within Camelot's nobility. Is this offer of a 'night without regret' as innocent as it seems, or a sinister plot to expose him as a sorcerer?</p>
<p>Prophecies, adventure, and lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Without Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Naming the pairings removes the element of surprise but it must be done. Inspired by these picture prompts [ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/shutupeccles/pic/000391gd/) from [merlinxarthur](http://merlinxarthur.livejournal.com/) fanfic challenge #3

####  1.1

Merlin looked over the unfamiliar envelope again before opening it once more to re-examine the message within.

It was small and thick with a purple ink-dipped, cutaway patterned edging; the lettering intricately fashioned in the same bold purple.

This was the type of invitation received by nobles, not servants.

There could be no dismissing its presence on his pillow as a mistake, as the envelope was clearly addressed by the same hand that penned the invite:  ~ _Merlin, manservant to Prince Arthur of Camelot ~_

He tapped both against a thigh as he ventured out of his room in search of Gaius. Luckily his elderly mentor had yet to retire for the night. He waited in silence as Gaius pottered about putting some things away and readying other items for the morning. Merlin’s stillness had nothing to do with patience and everything to do with finding approprate phraseology. In the end he almost shoved the thing up Gaius’ nose.

“Know anything about this?”

Gaius stepped back, blinking and squinting as he tried to focus on the object arriving so violently in his field of vision. He didn’t need to see more than the card’s border to know what it was.

“ **Oh** , one of **those** ,” he pronounced solemnly and handed it back.

“So you know what this is? This isn’t a mistake?”

“Yes and no mistake judging by the envelope. People like us aren’t often invited to such... parties but it has been known to happen on occasion.” His responses increased Merlin’s curiosity rather than satisfied it.

“Have you been to one?”

Gaius chuckled.

“Oh yes, many years before Uther became King. Not a purple though.”

“I need a straight answer Gaius...!”

Gaius chuckled some more, looked at Merlin as he thought and then laughed.

“ _Straight answer_ indeed, it isn’t that simple. Invitations are colour coded so recipients know what other company, what sort of gathering to expect. Mine was green, I’ll show you.”

“You kept it?”

Gaius smiled at the floor then looked sideways at Merlin with a rather naughty chuckle. 

“Oh yes, it was the best night of my life.”

Merlin felt less nervous and began to feel excited as he caught the edge of Gaius’ mood. If his curiosity burned any brighter the city of Camelot would perish in a conflagration more relentless than the dragon’s fire.

“So can I go? Do I have to ask anyone’s permission, I mean I’m not a child and - who would have sent it?”

“I think you might need some more details before deciding whether you want to go.” 

As for who may have requested Merlin’s presence at such an event, Gaius could think of only one suspect and he was in no way mentioning names. Anonymity was key, hence the ‘no mask, no entry’ rule. Other attire was entirely optional. Oh dear, how was he going to explain this? Where to begin? With the colours perhaps...no, he would have to start with the last thing he wanted to talk about, probably the last thing Merlin wanted to discuss – Merlin and, yes, well.

Gaius knew the boy had fallen in love with that Druid girl, Freya and more recently Morgana had attempted to seduce Merlin as part of some twisted plot for revenge. _Attempted_ may be too mild a word for it and Gaius would rather not know precisely what occurred between them for numerous reasons. But contradicting both of those histories were a mother’s concerns and Gaius’ own observations. Hunith had not sent Merlin to a nation known for slaughtering practisers of magic merely to prevent his latent talents being recognised in their small village as she told her son. It had as much, if not more to do with his friend Will and the direction Hunith believed their companionship was taking. Magic was dangerous enough. Boy-kissing caused remote settlements such as Ealdor to descend into a mass of hate often leading to fatalities. Larger cities like Camelot bred and fed what villages considered sin and behind closed doors the nobles so revered by common folk indulged in as much sin as they possibly could. There had been no need to delve deeper into comparative morality. The fears of his kinswoman were enough for Gaius to accept guardianship of the boy.

Merlin had not escaped masculine notice in Camelot either but whether he had ever returned such interest...

“Sit down my Boy,” Gaius was well aware the young man before him was beyond the label ‘boy’ but it was a longstanding term of endearment and caused no offence to Merlin’s pride. Gaius could not rightly call him ‘Son’. “We need to have a little chat about men.”

“You mean girls,” Merlin grinned naughtily. Perhaps maternal suspicions had been wrong, what a rare thing. 

“Not if you intend going to that.” Not the subtle approach Gaius had aimed for but it got the message across.

“Oh. **Oh!** ” Merlin’s expression produced nothing but a mild flush to his cheeks and he stared at the card as he tapped its corner on the table. “So I guess you don’t want me to go.” His tone was deliberately bland but involuntarily tight, like his chest and gut. He was pretty sure Gaius did not want to be having this conversation with him, would not approve of this form of assembly at all and certainly did not want Merlin attending such a thing at any age.

“I wouldn’t go, but I didn’t get the invite. Someone wants you there, thinks enough of you in that capacity to go out on a limb and put your name forward.” Gaius explained the no names policy, the importance of disguise and various other aspects without going into too much detail. He stressed that the level of participation in any activity, intimate or otherwise, was always up to the individual whether the party was for mixed company or not. “If you feel comfortable within yourself to take this chance to satisfy your curiosity, as to whether you have any interests, or who may think you share their interest enough to risk...it’s completely up to you and I will not think any less of you whatever you decide. And for the record, neither will your mother – not that I intend to tell her.”

“You mean you two have already talked about whether or not I might...”

Gaius nodded.

“Before you came into my care, again when Hunith came to seek aid for Ealdor and later when you went to confront Nimueh for threatening your mother’s life. Then again more recently.”

“So she knew about Will.” Merlin nodded his acknowledgement of that fact with a grimace. Playing over some of his conversations with his mother made him realise something else. “She thinks I’m with...oh no; no, no, no she can’t think **that** surely!”

“Think what?” Gaius asked with fake innocence. Hunith was not the only parent who confided these suspicions about an only son. It was almost the same conversation twice. It might have been amusing to have mother and father discuss their opinions with each other.

“Nothing,” Merlin replied with equally obvious fraudulence. He remained silent for about seven seconds before his thoughts burst from his mouth like hot fat from a ruptured sausage. “It couldn’t be from him. As if he... Do you think it **is** though? What if it isn’t and I make an idiot of myself by hoping it is, I mean thinking it is; I mean I shouldn’t be thinking any of this let alone saying it out loud.”

“I think you should go.” Gaius told him honestly, placing reassuring hands over his fidgeting pair. Despite having no children of his own Gaius held a lot of faith in parental intuition and felt Merlin’s chances of success were high.

“Really?”Some of the tension left Merlin’s shoulders and his knees stopped jouncing against the underside of the table.

“I have only ever been invited once and like I said, it was the best night of my life. You may never get another opportunity. Better to learn from something you shouldn’t have done than be constantly eaten by the regret that maybe you should have.”  
  
  


####  1.2

Following Gaius’ advice, Merlin sheepishly approached Gwen regarding his costume. 

“Oh, one of **those** ,” Merlin suspected servants were invited on a regular basis and Gaius had lied. Gwen seemed less impressed with her experience as her nose wrinkled slightly. On seeing his change in attitude Gwen put on a cheerier aspect herself. “So, what’s your theme then?”

“I haven’t thought of one.”

“Guests don’t get to pick anymore silly. It’s on your invitation, look.” She felt no need to turn away as she reached into her bodice to extract an older one.

Merlin rationalised that Gwen’s experience can’t have been all bad if she kept the thing in her clothes. Dark green, for mixed company; Merlin knew immediately who had invited her and crossed the main suspect off his list of possible hosts. It hurt more than he expected even though he should have known really. He’d had to hear about the pair of them often enough.

The theme was written in the bottom right hand corner. Gwen’s was no longer legible as she had handled her card a **lot**.

“I thought that was a password or something. Gaius had no idea. They didn’t have things like that when he...”

“Gaius?” Gwen’s attempt to stifle her laugh with her fingers was thwarted simply by looking at Merlin. Picturing Gaius in such a setting was hilarious yet vile because she had no way of envisioning him as anything other than an old man in robes made of sack cloth. Her laughter filled the room and spilled into the corridor.

Merlin wanted to go to this thing more than ever now.

“What’s going on in here Guinevere and why wasn’t I invited?” Arthur popped his smiling head through the door. “Oh, you’re not alone.” He noticed what was in her hand and frowned worriedly. “Did you get another one?”

“I wish.” Gwen hoped he heard the hearty dose of _hint, hint_ behind her words.

“You’re not supposed to go flashing those about you know.” Gwen and Merlin wondered if Arthur referred to the invitation or her bosoms. He could have been looking at either.

“Things sort of slipped a bit when she bent over and kind of fell out,” Merlin thought it best to cover both options at once but his clumsy response set Gwen laughing more than before. He couldn’t help laughing with her and Arthur left them to it, shaking his head and muttering about the secret language of servants as he went. Gwen looked forlornly after him for a moment until Merlin drew her attention back to him.

“Didn’t it go well?”

“Hmm?”

“The one you two went to, together.”

“We didn’t really go **together** , just,” she shook her curls a little as if it would make the words she needed fall into place. As it was Merlin asking the question she wasn’t prepared to lie. “It went very well. So well I expected there’d be more, you know? Not **more**. I thought that, after everything, there would be another one and we’d go together, properly. Then I give up hope and he says something like that or there’s a smile or a look and I start hoping all over again.” She frowned sadly in the direction of the door.

“He has a knack for that.” Merlin’s reply was too sympathetic and not jovial enough for his liking. Gwen did not pick up on it.

“He certainly does. Anyway, you’re the man of the moment. What was your theme again?”

Merlin was not showing her his card in case she knew about the colour system.

“Midnight.”

“Ooh, tricky. We don’t want to put you all in black or you’ll disappear before they snuff the candles, skinny thing that you are. Definitely not starlit sparkly, people have an impression of you as it is.”

“What impression is that exactly?” Did everyone talk about him like that? No wonder Arthur wasn’t concerned about discovering Merlin behaving frivolously alone with Gwen. If only Arthur knew what he got up to with Morgana a while ago he wouldn’t be so complacent. Gwen was an impressive kisser, they could both get him to sit up and take notice with a single well choreographed snog.

“You weren’t listening were you Merlin?”

“Nope, I mean yes...no?”

“I’ll measure you up now then come up with something. Leave it with me.”

“You’re the best,” he kissed her cheek fraternally because that was the kind of friendship they had. “By the way, don’t feel too bad about not getting another one. Gaius says they don’t happen very often. In all his years he’s yet to hear of more than one servant being invited twice and most people reckon that bloke made it up.”

“For that ray of sunshine I’m going to make sure you’re the sexiest creature there.” Gwen laughed at his shy blush and pushed him out of the room.  
  
  


####  1.3

With two weeks to go Gwen was putting the finishing touches to Merlin’s costume and they were both complaining loudly about his lack of appropriate footwear. Black boots were necessary to complete the effect Gwen was aiming for, Merlin only owned brown and lacked the coin needed to purchase others.

“Why don’t you ask Arthur...?”

“Oh no, don’t even think about it.” Merlin was getting so nervous about Arthur’s possible reaction should he discover his personal manservant had been to such a thing that he was considering not going. Both Gwen and Gaius proved determined to see him go although only one of them knew exactly what he was going to.

With ten days to go Merlin discovered a neat pair of black boots at the foot of his bed.

“Gaius, it isn’t you who sent me that is it? Because I’m telling you now I’m not interested!” Merlin called from his room.

“Don’t be foolish Boy! I’m old enough to be your grandfather,” Gaius called back.

“Didn’t stop you kissing Gwen,” Merlin muttered as he sat to try on the boots. He inverted them to ensure no creatures of any kind had found their way inside, causing a square of linen parchment to drop onto the floor.

_Bring your invitation to be granted entry. A mask is essential._

_Should you choose not to attend, place these boots on your window ledge until the evening has passed._

_If they do not fit leave them at the top of the stairs. Indicate too large or too small by note._

He felt like a character from a children’s story as he put the boots on and walked around his small room. They weren’t a perfect fit, which despite the physical discomfort was a good thing in Merlin’s opinion because the only male character known to receive ideal footwear from some mysterious benefactor had been a talking cat. Comparisons between their situations were not welcome. Neither were comparisons to girls. 

Why am I even doing this? I like girls. _True, but do you like them as much as boys Merlin?_

The truth was no, he didn’t. He wanted to, tried to like them more in fact, a lot more. But it was never going to turn out that way. The boots and this strange acknowledgement were proof that he was no longer the only one or one of the only two. This was a chance to be accepted for who he was, well almost. He returned the boots to the end of the bed and put his invitation in the right one so he couldn’t possibly forget.

####  2.1

The crowd did not fall into dramatic silence at the arrival of their newest guest but every man in the room became aware of him within the first several minutes. It would have been impossible not to, though he did not go out of his way to stand out. 

Newcomers, referred to as starlings, were always obvious by the way they stood as if they’d stumbled upon the edge of the world. You may have heard tales tell of it but nothing truly prepared you for seeing it yourself. The way he sidled to an empty table by one wall and stayed there silently observing indicated the need to find his bearings; his unfamiliar disguise proved he was an invited guest and not a regular. 

There was an intricate etiquette to these parties, designed specifically to put starlings at ease, prevent violence and ensure enjoyment for all. Someone had invited this one and he was off limits for more than conversation to the rest of the flock. It was a shame really. Despite his attempts at invisibility the contrast of the silver-grey crescent moon shaped mask against his night black hair naturally caught one’s eye. His subtle movement to his seat did nothing to hide the tailored fit of indigo fabrics so dark as to be almost black. Star shaped fasteners at wrist and chest twinkled with the fire of candlelight. Many revellers without a specified partner looked about for clues as to who he might belong to, hoping to introduce themselves without causing offence. If he remained unclaimed by midnight there would be a rush for this one’s attention.

####  2.2 

Merlin knew who the man singing on stage was as soon as he saw him. 

The gold half mask and minstrel disguise could not hide his true identity from Merlin, not when he was wearing the blue shirt that had mysteriously disappeared from a tree branch while Merlin was, um swimming with Morgana in the lake. That explained two things, three really. What happened to his favourite shirt; Merlin would most likely not lose his job if Arthur found out he was here; and apparently Arthur knew precisely what Merlin and Morgana got up to. Could he have sent the invitation after all? Would he be wearing that particular shirt tonight if he hadn’t? Why had he taken it in the first place? Questions buzzed through his head in a swarm.

With so much to take in Merlin’s eyes travelled constantly around the room. One table against each wall was reserved for small buffets of dried meats, fruits, cheeses, small flat salt or sugar-crusted biscuits, miniature cakes and a range of beverages with horn bowls and cups neatly stacked as they waited to be filled. The cavalcade of colour on display fell short of only the most heavily attended court celebrations and there was far more visible skin. Costumes varied from head to toe creations to scraps of fabric that accentuated what lie beneath rather than providing a minimal amount of modesty. One man he noticed wore nothing but a towering swan-shaped mask. Mostly men chatted in softly spoken pairs and trios or large boisterous groups but a few were already exploring the joys of more intimate communication without being blatant. Despite these wonders Merlin’s attention frequently returned to the stage. The princely minstrel performed serious, silly and bawdy pieces depending on requests from his immediate audience. Merlin had cleaned the instrument often enough to know who it belonged to. Even without the combined evidence of lute, shirt and infamous crown of gold hair Merlin knew was hidden beneath the sun-yellow whatever that was on his head, Arthur’s posture, smile and laugh were enough to give him away.

Merlin noticed people looking at him but nobody approached. A handful of onlookers glanced between him and the stage then began whispering in speculation. Had they recognised him? Perhaps they were wondering the same thing he was. His hopes were raised despite his determined efforts to remain neutral. One person of similar age was watching them both closely, a finger pressed thoughtfully to his lips. Was that...?

The thought was lost as Merlin’s eyes made their inevitable journey back to Arthur who seemed to have forgotten what he was doing as he stared in Merlin’s direction. There was surprise and a question easily discernible even though the top half of Arthur’s face was covered. He quite clearly recognised Merlin despite the disguise and had not expected to see him here. Someone else had issued the invitation. Merlin fought the urge to leave. He hadn’t suspected Arthur would even be here when he made the final decision to come, so why should he let knowing he had caught the attention of another for certain chase him home? If anything it was more reason to stay and find out whose interest he inspired.

He lowered his eyes then turned them to the thoughtful man he suspected was...no longer there. As Arthur inexorably drew his gaze again Merlin noticed where the other man had gone. He was convinced now that it was Leon. How often had the knight leaned to the prince’s ear at court in identical manner? Whatever they discussed involved a small shake of Arthur’s head, a mutual glance at Merlin, a subtle shrug and an exchange of confident nods.

Most-definitely-Leon leaped from the stage as if into enemy trenches then made his way calmly to Merlin.

“May I sit, freshen your drink perhaps?”

Merlin nodded mutely, observing the complexities of Leon’s ensemble as the knight in disguise busied himself at the nearest refreshment table. How he managed to appear so avian without a single feather suggested it was assembled by an artist rather than a tailor. 

“Has anyone explained the rules to you yet?”

“Apart from names never, masks always and stop means just that? Not directly, no.”

“That’s an excellent start. Those three rules apply to every Colour,” Leon went on to clarify the main Colour groups – purple for men only, green mixed company, orange women only –then describe those rules pertaining only to the purple parties. Themes were registered to each individual, which is why they had to be unique. It made it easier to identify and punish any who violated the rules, particularly those of consent. Red parties were specifically for those who liked that sort of thing. “Not my thing at all; only a very select few attend those things. Back on topic, while you are here your theme becomes your name. Although you plainly know who I am, for this evening you must address me only as _Pheasant_ , short for Pheasant Plucker. My original benefactor’s idea of wit,” Leon’s dry reply did not quite match the quirk of his lips. “Only those in long term partnerships may change their theme and then they either adopt the same or complementary themes. Should the partnership dissolve each reverts to their unique original. You would be?” 

“ _Midnight_ apparently,” Merlin replied. Leon frowned slightly at Merlin, then in Arthur’s direction. Merlin let it pass; he had too many questions as it was. “Why would those in committed relationships continue coming to these?”

“To stop their wives finding out of course,” Leon winked with a smile and then the thoughtful frown returned. “Do you know who invited you Midnight?”

“No idea Pheasant.”

Leon smiled brefly, pleased that Merlin needed telling only once.

“In cases such as yours, and also mine, the person who asks you here chooses your theme. Your benefactor would have to realise your theme compliments an existing one, yet if **he’d** been the one to invite you he wouldn’t be so surprised to find you here. It suggests someone believes the two of you are an established couple, which you aren’t.” Leon watched Merlin stare analytically at Arthur who made his bows then leapt from the stage in the same manner as Leon only with more dramatic grace.

Moon silver and sun gold; darkest purples and azure blues; black hair and blond; servant and regent; as opposite as night and day. If only that mysterious someone was Arthur then Merlin’s night would already be perfect. 

“No, we aren’t,” Merlin murmured.

####  2.3 

Arthur forgot the lyric, melody, hell the genre he was performing as he noticed the familiar figure in unfamiliar clothing and god didn’t Merlin look painfully incredible in that colour. Arthur had long accepted the fact that he could recognise Merlin anywhere, in any crowd, in any situation disastrous or tedious. However, the sensations he experienced whenever that happened were something he continually struggled to come to terms with, especially as they became harder to ignore.

Others obviously felt the same way. Another man with no such hesitancy brought Merlin here. The implications of that were devastating. Added to that, Merlin quite obviously recognised him. How was he going to avoid this at breakfast? Or the fact that he was quite publicly wearing Merlin’s shirt? A shirt Arthur filched after catching Morgana having her wicked way with him no less. He couldn’t very well tell Merlin he’d been so emotionally battered by what he’d witnessed that he kept the shirt to remind him of what he’d known he could never have from the moment he came to realise how badly he desired it. It was difficult enough admitting those things to himself. 

His carefree night had descended into so many levels of crud and it had barely begun.

He wasn’t sure whether Leon’s enquiries raised his hopes or dashed them further. A number of other members of the flock also appeared to assume Merlin was his. If only. Not that Merlin would do anything but laugh if any of them suggested such a thing.

No, he wouldn’t think about it, shouldn’t think about it, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Crud!

Arthur bid his audience fare thee well with characteristic flair and went to evaluate his chances. Leon was getting rather cosy there. Come on, brave face. Bluff your way through it like another dull, official banquet. “Hello you two, mind if I join you?”

“Please do.” Leon responded politely. Arthur knew Pheasant deserved his theme and felt extremely hypocritical for not wanting Merlin to discover that too.

“Yes, um go ahead.”

“May I present Midnight, Midnight this is Noon.”

“That can’t be right.” The significance of directly opposing themes was not lost on Arthur. Someone was playing a cruel joke. He wasn’t bothered for himself; people – mostly Merlin - made fun of him all the time, it came with the territory but this was also at Merlin’s expense. When Arthur discovered who was behind it he would remove their genitals with a rust-flaked spoon.

Merlin produced his card.

Arthur knew that penmanship very well and all thoughts of rusty utensils disintegrated with his hopes of there being a mistake. His night had progressed from crud to manure.

####  2.4 

Tonight’s Host watched the intricate ballet unfold before him. 

From the moment of arrival his guest attracted more attention than anticipated. Why the widespread fascination with this one? Most of the flock wouldn’t give him the time of day when asked. During an ordinary day they may simply pretend he wasn’t there but they always noticed him. One could unerringly point to Merlin like a compass finds north. It was instinctive, as if he were some natural force. 

Noon’s reactions were the ones he monitored most and sure enough the young man sought to assert his ownership.

Tonight’s Host left his seat and joined the flock.

####  2.5 

_ Midnight _ sat between _Pheasant_ and _Noon_ as they explained the remaining rules with a combination of sensitivity and humour. Every member of the flock had been in Merlin’s position with many attempting every other position since. 

They also explained that the flock owned several houses as a collective for the express purpose of holding Colour parties. There were a set number of Hosts who took turns organising these gatherings with the Colour determined by the preferences of Tonight’s Host. No Host or regular attendee went to every Colour. This main room was where the most innocent interactions occurred, though as the party progressed the debauchery tended to spread. All wine, ale and mead was watered down and spirits were forbidden. _A night without regret_ was the motto and sole purpose for establishment of the flock in the first place.

“If you haven’t been claimed by midnight we can give you a tour if you like,” Leon offered with deceptive nonchalance, his finger tapping between them on the bench in such a way as to make regular, teasingly brief contact with Merlin’s thigh.

“We won’t show you everything of course, unless you want to.” Arthur tried to sit close while maintaining a safe distance. As a result he was terribly uncomfortable but he refused to crowd Merlin’s personal space, no matter how much he fantasised about sitting in his lap and snogging him until Merlin dragged him under the table and...

Merlin listened and observed. Around them men danced in twos or threes, bodies moving in a manner promising more intimate acts to follow; sat or stood openly kissing; one pair fondled each other at a corner table before heading out to another room. He wanted Arthur to either move closer or stop tormenting him so he could return Leon’s progressively overt advances.

Leon wondered how he could get both of them naked with him at the same time without causing the starling to take flight. Arthur shouldn’t take much convincing but he most likely wanted to keep Merlin to himself, not only tonight but every night. Hmm, who else was here?

“Anyone take your fancy, Pheasant?” Arthur asked. 

“One or two, have you developed any preferences Noon?” 

“Perhaps,” Arthur’s knee casually came into contact with Merlin’s and not so casually stayed there. “It’s very rude of your benefactor to ignore you like this Midnight. His deadline draws near.”

“Although by the looks of the circle closing around our table you can take your pick without feeling guilty.”

“Indeed he can, Pheasant.”

Without considering long term consequences Merlin slid one hand nervously from where it was wedged between his thighs to touch Arthur’s, who immediately accepted it and held their hands together in his lap. The building tension between them was broken, replaced with anticipation until a man of intimidating stature and wearing a polished wooden mask to cover his entire face stood directly in front of them.

“Thank you Gentlemen for caring for my invited guest in my absence, it was remiss of me not to assign suitable companions whilst the duties of hospitality kept me otherwise occupied.”

“Taking this starling under our protective wing is no less than what was done for us and his pleasant company made it enjoyable rather than a chore. If you will excuse me there remains fun to be had.” Leon was not about to try stealing Merlin from Tonight’s Host even though he had no idea who was behind that featureless visage. The man’s height and apparent strength was more of a deterrent than any breach of etiquette. While Leon was not entirely surprised to see Arthur retain his position at Merlin’s side, he wanted no part of whatever trouble may be afoot.

“What Pheasant lacks the courage to say is: neglecting any invited guest for such a time is remiss; leaving a starling without detailed knowledge of the rules of conduct is not only an insult but dangerous.”

“Wisely and justly spoken young Noon, I shall apologise more appropriately in private should my guest choose to accept. Do you accept Midnight?”

Arthur glared with menace at Tonight’s Host while Merlin nodded silently. Their exchange had given him time to understand the repercussions of indulging any fantasies of being with Arthur. They were many and varied from being unable to perform his regular duties without attempting to molest his friend through to feeling like Gwen, expecting a permanent and open relationship rather than a one off romp. Merlin knew Arthur had every intention of marrying Gwen, had never seriously considered someone other than Gwen for his wife. How would he cope with being reminded of that on a regular basis after, if they –? Merlin began withdrawing his hand from Arthur’s. 

“You don’t have to go with him. Just because he invited you, you don’t have to.” Arthur’s fingers tightened as he realised what Merlin was doing. He thought they, no this wasn’t right, too many seemed to think Merlin belonged with him for it not to be true. Merlin returned his affection, didn’t he? 

 “I accept.” Merlin made the decision he knew neither of them wanted at this moment but both must surely come to realise was the only one to make. Never was better than the heartbreak of only once. 

“Noon is right. You are under no obligation to accept any advance, not even from the one who asked you to be here.”

“I know. He and Pheasant told me.”

“You honour me. Shall we adjourn to more private environs?”

“Please. Enjoy your evening Noon.” As soon as the phrase was out Merlin hoped that didn’t sound as cruel to Arthur’s ears as it had to his. He had been unable to stop thinking of Gwen waiting, yearning; of hopes constantly rising and falling like ocean tides and Arthur being here despite all that, ready to roll with Merlin contrary to all his talk of love and marriage. Merlin knew he would be caught in the same trap and just as reluctant to leave. 

Tonight’s Host led Midnight through the expansive house at a leisurely pace so his guest could see samples of the activities occurring under its roof.

Not all participants bothered with things like darkness or closed doors and they passed variants of threesomes, one featuring the pleasant Pheasant; role plays; voyeurism; mutual masturbation plus many examples of basic cock sucking and sodomy. He barely suppressed a chuckle as Midnight paused at the doorway of one particularly lively group, head to the side and lips moving as he analysed who had what where and how. Merlin’s mild curiosity, posture, manner and expression aroused Tonight’s Host more than he had anticipated. After months of careful observation he had not believed Merlin would choose another’s presence over Arthur’s, nor that Arthur might surrender to another’s claim so easily. Perhaps he and so many others had misjudged the situation after all. Seeing Merlin as he was now made this unexpected outcome most desirable and Tonight’s House ceased to think about the puzzle of Merlin and Arthur, dwelling instead upon the possible pleasures to come.

####  3.2    

Merlin didn’t know the sights and sounds of other people’s sexual congress could have such deep seeded effects. Observing Leon join another man inside a third sent his heart racing and his cock throbbing. What he saw in another room intrigued as much excited him. How did they do that? Who thought of such a combination in the first place? Did he know anyone in that jumble? He looked up to see the blank wooden face staring at him. Not knowing what expression was shielded by the full mask was intimidating. The evidence of arousal in his benefactor’s mahogany breeches was inviting and exciting.

It didn’t matter that things could never be as he dreamed with Arthur. From what Merlin could gather this man desired him here, now; had wanted him since before the invitation was written and had taken the effort to express his interest. Being lusted after was a powerful aphrodisiac. Merlin desired what was on offer enough to throw any remaining caution to the dogs.

####  3.3

Shadows flirted with the furnishings and walls as the door was locked behind them. 

This room had been prepared for Merlin from the beginning. Two score candles and a fire banked to embers emitted subdued light. Small pots of pleasantly scented tallow warmed beside the hearth. A small cauldron of warm water sat above the coals and soft cloths folded into squares lined the mantle. A basket of fresh fruit, cheeses and soft bread rolls waited in the darkest corner with a trio of water pitchers. Tonight’s Host never considered any but Arthur would join Merlin here, believing them inseparable. At first saddened when Merlin turned his back on one who in his opinion deserved far more, Tonight’s Host soon admitted he had been granted a tremendous privilege to see blue sapphires look at him so through the silver moon. His elaborate schemes burned to ash in the blaze of heat from his loins.

A finger in a white glove of velvet so fine it felt like silk against Merlin’s skin stroked his cheek reverently, following the shape of his face, down along his jaw, over his chin, across his lips. Merlin opened his mouth as his body responded with a brief shock between his legs at the sensation. A thumb teased his lips again and Merlin made a sound he couldn’t suppress before his tongue flicked out to touch the thumb. 

Tonight’s Host placed one hand either side of Merlin’s face, stared enthralled at his reaction and gestured minutely with his hips as he softly stroked each cheekbone beneath the moulded mask with his thumbs. 

“Yes,” Merlin responded to the unvoiced question, a response repeated several times by Tonight’s Host as Merlin knelt before him and put his mouth to miraculous use.

####  3.4

 Arthur was in foul temper. 

He repeated the litany of pointless miseries in his head: useless diluted alcohol; wretched broken heart; damn Guinevere and damn Merlin. 

Of all the people who could wish to take Merlin from him he never suspected...

This had to be punishment for something, tormenting them with meaning-laden names and manipulative games. Arthur could only think of one reason a plot against Merlin should have earned such attention to detail.

Arthur had to put a stop to this before Merlin’s benefactor gained the evidence needed to put his friend to death.

####  3.5

Merlin spread eagerly writhing on the bed, naked but for the necessary mask, hands clutching finely woven blankets as Tonight’s Host fingered and stroked him with equal enthusiasm.

“I can feel you keeping your noises in, the way it tightens your muscles mm, it feels good, so good; but my ears hunger for sounds of your pleasure.”

Merlin obliged and the hands manipulating him moved with increased pressure and speed until he came. His own hands covered his closed eyes to smother a surge of spontaneous magic that never occurred. Unlike Morgana this partner had no power to call his forth in a sphere of orgasmic energy. It would take decades for life in and around that lake to recover. His eyes and throat opened wide to ejaculate _GOD_!

“Yes, yes, come.” Tonight’s Host used his bare fingers to fill Merlin’s pre-greased and stretched hole with cum. His mask was all that stopped him offering to lick it out, an action that had aroused disgust when hearing of others’ experiences but now seemed a most natural craving. The shapes Merlin’s body made in the subdued light bordered on art, his vocalisations as enchanting as any aria. Tonight’s Host knew now why some among his peers would do anything and everything on a night like this. “What do you want now?” 

This lack of emotional and spiritual attachment left the latent core of Merlin’s magic completely untouched. In contrast to Merlin’s sexual encounters with Will and Morgana he was free to enjoy the physicality of this session not as a warlock but as a man. Liberation made him bold.

Merlin grabbed the man’s wrist, pushing continually moving fingers deeper as he answered him in lurid detail.

####  3.6

Arthur should have told Merlin who invited him after seeing the cursed card.

Should have be damned; he should have invited Merlin himself long ago. 

He eventually found the room they were in, worse luck. 

He always suspected Merlin was a loud one. Now he had proof. Still, those noises were preferable to the sounds of death sure to follow, if only by a smidgeon.

Arthur used every profanity he could think of and made quite a few up while pondering what to do next. He couldn’t just knock politely and say ‘don’t kill Merlin Father, magic isn’t as bad as you think’; nor could he kick the door in and slit the king’s throat. He didn’t have a sword for a start.

He was powerless. He couldn’t go in; neither could he walk away from the door leaving Merlin unprotected, unguarded, whatever. He couldn’t leave Merlin, end of story.

He tried to ignore the intimate noises emanating from the locked room, without success. By the sounds of it Merlin would die happy at least. Arthur sank to the floor, knees up and back against the door, bunched the fabric of Merlin’s shirt in both hands and buried his face in it.

####  3.7

Uther clamped Merlin’s wrists to the top of the dresser with strong hands and thrust into him from behind with all his remaining strength.

Merlin’s grunts and groans teased the flames of the many candles directly in front of him but only a few succumbed to his breath and were extinguished. He moved contrary to the man behind him so his back barely made contact with his host’s torso and the penetration was extreme. His few forays into all male sex had never prepared him for such intense satisfaction. His cock remained limp for the past however long but his arse didn’t care. He wanted to keep going until he was worn through like an old shoe.

Uther had never lain with a woman after his wife’s death, choosing the company of many men to fulfil his need instead but none of those encounters compared to this. Merlin’s surly confidence - so irritating in Uther’s daily opinion - transferred into such a fiery sexual energy that he was willing to do anything Merlin wanted so long as he moved like that, made those sounds, demanded more, because Uther was going to come so hard the connections to every part of his body not directly linked to his balls and cock were deemed obsolete and ignored accordingly until his brain hurt. Uther ejaculated with a guttural monosyllable after holding off for as long as possible

“To drive a man wild like this, oah,” he rested his covered head at the apex of Merlin’s spine and moved their hips in slow circles as he began to retract. “What kind of magic do you possess Merlin?”

“ ** _NONE!_** ” 

All the candles went out at once.

####  4.1

Merlin’s body churned with adrenaline as the fight or flight reflex took hold.

Who was this man, what did he want? _What did I just do?!_

 “Figure of speech, nothing more; I should have chosen my words more carefully. Luckily the candles went out instead of toppling or you would surely have been burned.” The distorted whispers smoothed the edge off Merlin’s panic as the stranger’s restrictive grip slackened. He calmed Merlin’s trembling limbs with a caring caress and eased his previous alarm with softly reassuring words. “The thought of your smooth perfection marred by even those smallest of flames is unbearable. I’ve never hated this mask more, the way it stops me tasting your skin and touching you here with my tongue.” Each fingertip drifted softly over the hardened nubs on Merlin’s chest in seductive patterns and the thrill of contact removed every trace of fear. He had not been discovered after all. He leaned back into the tender embrace with a mildly moaning sigh. “There will be no more tonight I’m afraid. It is improper for a Host to isolate themself from the flock for so long as it is. We are not permitted the same level of indulgence we encourage others to pursue, else I would gladly remain at your service. You are far more than I expected, far more. Partake of what you will in my absence; there is no need for you to hurry away simply because I must. May I make you comfortable before leaving?”

Merlin did not know how to reply and silently allowed the stranger to lead him to the hearth. The man dipped a cloth from the mantle into the warm water and proceeded to carefully sponge Merlin clean from face to foot as if he were a man born of highest nobility, not merely a servant who had boldly assumed control of their pleasure for the preceding hours. His touch was respectful and Merlin felt as if his lust haggard body was a priceless rarity to be polished before being returned to its accustomed place.

They remained silent as his Host collected Merlin’s discarded clothes, shook them with an efficient snap of the wrists and dressed him. Merlin was too overwhelmed to protest. Was this standard behaviour toward invited guests? Had Gaius and Gwen been treated the same way by their highborn lovers? He couldn’t imagine Arthur doing this for him. He’d be more likely to lay there in a gorgeous naked lump, face buried in a pillow while grumbling that he felt a chill in his nether regions and shouldn’t Merlin be building up the fire or something equally useful rather than lounging about all over him? Merlin flushed and flinched at the thought. 

Arthur.

It would be very different with Arthur - too familiar to be profound, too extraordinary to remain comfortable. He had made the right decision.

He had.

Hadn’t he?

####  4.2

Uther deemed Merlin presentable with a satisfied nod. Rumpled as those clothes were, they only enhanced his lithe build and mysterious allure. Many who saw Merlin leave in such a state would put his name forward for the next purple event.

“Thank you,” Merlin offered nervously. 

The contrast in his demeanour was astounding. Uther had mistakenly thought him simple – not often unintelligent but certainly never complex in behaviour. From his arrival in Camelot, Merlin had shown the habit of bumbling into situations only to bumble his way out again and now it happened more often with Arthur’s assistance than without. 

“I’ll leave now if I may. I work for Ar- the king’s son, but you already know that, obviously. Tomorrow he ...I should go home.” The previously confident man lost five years maturity as heated lust subsided into cool reason. It was the same for all starlings. Some members of the flock did not outgrow this awkward transition from fantasy to ordinary but it never stopped them returning for more.

“You need no permission to leave.” Uther turned his back and fetched a clean cloth for his personal use. “You attracted much interest tonight. If others requested your presence at subsequent events would you be willing to receive an invitation? As on this occasion there is no obligation to accept.”

Merlin took serious time to think about it before he left. The majority of starlings immediately gave a solid yes or no. Uther wondered what factors weighed against each other in his deceptively astute mind. Merlin’s verbal answer may have been firmly positive but Uther felt there was a percentage of ‘no’ that did not agree. 

The apparent inconsistency restored Uther’s negative opinion of this servant. It seemed he was exploiting his association with Arthur after all. The sooner Uther made his son realise Merlin was not worthy of his truer affection the sooner Arthur could sever the anchor of his attachment and move forward.

Uther would prove Merlin’s duplicity and open his son’s eyes, however low he must sink in Arthur’s esteem to do it. Arthur deserved what he constantly strove to be – nothing short of the best.

####  4.3

Arthur waited in torment by the door, expecting but not wanting to hear more from the other side. After a handful of minutes he almost regretted the lack of noise. What if his father had simply strangled Merlin when he was at his most vulnerable? Many more ‘what if Merlin was dead’ scenarios taunted his conscience.

The portal to hell opened and Merlin emerged.

Oh god, he was still flushed and rumpled, hair tousled behind his mask with sweat and – please let it be only sweat. Arthur’s soulless cock rose at the sight of him as his shrivelling heart sank.

Merlin started to ask with whom Arthur had passed the time, only to stop when the wretchedness plain in Arthur’s face and stance declared he remained alone, by choice.

“How long...” Merlin could not voice the remaining ‘have you been out here?’ His face grew hotter and his throat tightened as he thought of what Arthur may have heard. Merlin had not kept his voice down once told there was no need for quiet. If anything, he made more noise than was necessary because it certainly seemed appropriate under those particular circumstances.

They stood facing each other in silent, gut-churning despair. 

Merlin surged between heartfelt guilt and bitter anger. If Arthur felt that way he should have made his intentions clear. How hard would it have been to lean closer and whisper in his ear ‘I love you Merlin, don’t go with him’? Probably as impossible as it had been for Merlin to decline the Host’s intimate apology then sit in Arthur’s lap, whisper ‘I love you Arthur’ and instigate sex where they sat.

 Arthur was divided between pleasure at Merlin’s noticeable discomfort and shame at making his _friend_ feel guilty. Even had Arthur known Merlin shared an interest in men and Arthur had been brave enough to invite him, he couldn’t have assumed Merlin would spend the night with him.

“ _A night without regret_ ,” Arthur offered in the friendliest manner he could manage. Merlin was his _friend_ not his love interest– ‘keep repeating that Arthur, maybe one day you’ll be convinced’ –he didn’t belong to Arthur and could spend his nights with whomever he chose. 

Merlin stepped toward Arthur, reaching out to touch him.  Arthur resisted the reflexive impulse to flinch away from Merlin’s fingers, dreading to think where that hand may have been, what it may have done. Merlin’s tangible regret staid Arthur’s hand. Did he feel the same after all? Either way retreating would worsen their wounds, not heal them. 

“I only chose him because I didn’t know what crossing that line with you would mean for us, to you. Regardless of how...where would it have left me Arthur? You’re not exactly faithful to Gwen are you?”

Arthur did not know how to begin responding to that nor did he get the chance as Tonight’s Host, ruler of Camelot, his _father_ opened the door and effectively locked the younger men in place without a syllable. Arthur’s expression gave Uther cause to briefly hate what he had done and what he later intended to do, before improvising a plan that made use of current circumstances. 

“It appears your servant is not as loyal as you believe,” Uther callously told his son. “His performance was adequate though I personally cannot justify the fuss you make of him. Perhaps others with less refined tastes understand your obsession.” He tossed a hefty pouch to Arthur who caught it without thinking. Uther then sauntered away with no further acknowledgement to the mute pair. For a fleeting moment he had considered throwing the coins at Merlin’s feet but Arthur’s response to that condescending action would be too predictable. This way Merlin was put through a greater test, his last chance to prove worthy of the prince’s affection.

The metallic clink from the red velvet pouch in his hand enraged Arthur. As if the earlier moves in this game hadn’t been cruel enough. Merlin could see Arthur approached boiling point by the blood pulsing through his neck, clench of his jaw and sharpened stare; yet Merlin’s irrational indignation burst forth first.

“Was this some sort of wager? A game of poke the Merlin with a nobleman?” he accused ludicrously. Arthur stared down the corridor and replied in a voice low and dangerous.

“Nothing as honourable as that, my father just paid me for the privilege of your services.”

“How much did he reckon I’m worth?” Merlin thought some levity was required before Arthur began breaking things and killing people. Then the true import of Arthur’s words registered. Paid him...“Your what?” he asked in a voice more suited to a child dared to eat dog poop than the greatest warlock since time began. Arthur didn’t say his father, as in King of Camelot die-wizards-die, the King of Camelot who is Arthur’s father, had just spent the past few hours naked showing Merlin the born wizard an incredibly orgasmic time, did he?

“Go home Merlin. Do as you normally would, put this night behind you.” Merlin began to argue and Arthur interrupted by placing an authoritative hand on Merlin’s collarbone with his fingers curled over a shoulder and looking him firmly in the eye. “I will come to you when I can. Go home.”

Merlin’s only possible reaction was complete inaction; he could not move, could not think, could not protest as Arthur strode after the king.

This _night without regret_ had become the most regrettable night of Merlin’s life.

####  5.1

Uther knew his son followed him and made no effort to dissuade pursuit.

They passed through the kitchen, neither aware of the men copulating on the central table and into the Office of the Host. Uther went straight to the desk and sat in the comfortable brocade cushioned chair.

“Don’t bother locking the door Arthur. I’m probably expecting company.”

Arthur threw the coin purse onto the desk in front of his father from the doorway. The sound as it collided with the four inch thick timber table top was threatening.

“What are you playing at?” Arthur demanded coldly. “Why are you doing this to me?” Damn it, the last way to achieve success was to come across as a spoilt child. He had to organise his thoughts, a task with which he always struggled when angered. 

“I am merely proving a point. You are far too attached to that piece of scrap than is healthy. He does not care for you and you make a fool of yourself by doting on him. Go play with your friend the pheasant. He’s more worthy of your attention. From what I hear he’s worthy of every man’s attention. You should be flattered he considers you a favourite rather than courting detritus such as you do.”

“Detritus you were happy to entertain yourself with!”

“He is easy, greedy and malleable. I didn’t precisely tear him from your side. To be honest I’m surprised he didn’t ask to keep the coin. Isn’t his mother terribly poor like the rest of their village?”

His father possessed knowledge of everything Arthur strived to conceal from others, including some he endeavoured to hide from himself. Uther’s ploys centred round Arthur’s attachment to Merlin but being a Host of the flock gave him access to further information from which he could forge a range of weapons. Any regular sought approval from the collective Host for any non-member they deemed eligible to attend a particular Colour by putting the intended guest’s name forward, with reasons justifying their choice. This meant his father knew about Arthur’s single clandestine liaison with Guinevere. Depending on how long Uther had been part of the Host, he may also know Arthur’s original sponsor for the purple gatherings was Leon. If so, he would be aware of precisely which men favoured his son until he was granted membership, plus other related details of which Arthur remained ignorant. If Arthur’s greatest fear were realised and Uther also knew Merlin was a sorcerer then this entire satirical farce was a test of Arthur’s loyalty preceding arrangement of an execution.

Incensed, Arthur leaped onto the desk, forcing his father’s head back by placing the toe of one boot under Uther’s chin and bracing the heel between his clavicles.

####  5.2

Merlin stepped back into the darkened room, relit the candles without word or gesture and tried to assemble the puzzle.

Too many pieces did not fit, making him wonder if more than one picture had been fractured here. Uther gave Arthur money to imply Merlin was a whore yet in this room the king had played that role. Merlin controlled where, what, for how long and **the king** did precisely as instructed then cleaned up between acts while Merlin lounged on the cleanest corner of the bed and devoured the choicest pears. That isolated fact was too difficult to get his head around. Add it to the others and the trail of evidence became a labyrinth.

Uther invited him yet, according to Leon’s remarks, deliberately named Merlin as Arthur’s – Arthur’s what? There was no what. He plainly, purposefully implied Merlin belonged to Arthur. Why then, if he believed they were already together or at the very least should be together, why did he set himself between them?

Merlin did not like the first solution his internal reasoning produced.

Uther knew what Merlin was and set up an elaborate maze to force Arthur to admit not only that he knew, but that he hid that knowledge...no, wait! Uther **didn’t** know. The king presumed the candles went out because of the way Merlin’s startled terror shook the dresser in response to the question: _“What manner of magic do you possess Merlin?”_ He had taken extreme care to put Merlin at ease. If Merlin had suspected his attentive lover was Uther when that question was asked and if Uther had asked it in interrogation rather than post orgasmic babble, Merlin’s involuntary outburst would have caused irreparable damage rather than douse two score candles.

Which was the lie – gallant admirer or cruel antagonist? Had he known Arthur would follow... no Uther had hesitated when he found his son at the door, with Merlin’s hand on him after...

Arthur knew none of that. But he **had** known who Merlin left with. He knew who gave Merlin a theme to match his own. He would wonder why his father of all people wove such an elaborate web of snares and deceit centred on Merlin. He would reach the same first conclusion Merlin had.

Uther may not have known Merlin was a warlock earlier but he soon would unless Merlin stopped Arthur unleashing his anger. 

He closed his eyes, concentrated on Arthur, held his arms half open as in welcome embrace and disappeared in a swirl of wind energy. It was a dangerous way to travel at the best of times and the probability of revealing his true nature to one who would put him to death without regard for what had passed between them upstairs was almost one hundred percent, but he had no choice.

Luckily Merlin appeared in a large pantry, quite alone and unnoticed. Arthur was nearby; the connection forged by his sortilege was fading but intact. He rushed out of the storeroom, startling a man who – _was he?_ Merlin paused out of insatiable curiosity. _He was!_ Sparing no more time for the anonymous man eating a baked parsnip out of another man’s bottom, Merlin ran to the one he sought to protect. 

Not in order to fulfil Destiny or Duty, but for Love. 

####  5.3

Determined not to mention magic lest his deductions in relation to Uther’s motives be awry, Arthur sought to make his father confess before allowing himself to even think the word.

 “Tell me why.” Arthur’s voice bordered between growl and snarl, his boot partially crushed his father’s windpipe as he pushed and turned his foot. 

Uther surprised him by chuckling.

“Where treads one the other is sure to follow.”  His harshly croaked prophecy caused Arthur to lower his boot and turn in order to identify this anticipated guest, _Merlin?_

“I told you to go home.”

“He’s doing this to goad you Arthur, to force your hand, not to humiliate me. To punish me perhaps, but not in the **ways** you might think.” Merlin emphasized the plural in the hope Arthur would take the hint and keep his supercilious mouth shut. Then again, remembering the unsuccessful results of Gwen’s hints he may have to be more overt than that - or do what he did best and gabble on like an idiot while his mind developed an effective evasive action. “Behind that door he treated me with nothing but respect Arthur. There were no threats or insults. I certainly didn’t feel like a prostitute. That performance was put on for your benefit, to remind you that even in this environment I will always be beneath you. And he’s right. I can never be your equal.” 

“Don’t you **dare** use her arguments against me to justify what happened here, especially not when you’re the one encouraging me to believe anything is possible.” Arthur’s eyes shouted ‘I know you mean that **I** can never be equal to **you**!’ Merlin missed the significance of that angry stare. As Arthur’s back was to him, so did Uther.

“Almost anything Arthur, it’s possible for you to marry the woman you say you love,” Merlin’s throat rebelled against the word. “It’s not possible to make that sort of commitment to me and, and that’s what I’d want, just as much as she does. How much longer are you going to make her wait?”

Uther remained silent, letting the scene play out before him. It was their instinctive silent communications that first drew his attention to their unquantified relationship. He had not expected Merlin to come to his defence, nor had Arthur apparently. Who was this ‘her’ they referred to? Surely not the distinctive serving girl Arthur brought along for a tumble at one of the greens! The more he thought about that impossibility the more plausible it became. Arthur had never invited a woman before or since, attending to provide moral support for his friends if he went at all. From what Uther heard his son used greens as an opportunity to catch up on sleep; or more recently exact his unique revenge on Morgana by reading her diaries aloud so every noble family in Camelot knew what a back-stabbing, self-serving cow she had always been and wouldn’t be duped into offering her support should she gather an army against him as promised. He certainly never paired off with anyone aside from that Guinevere girl. The one he and Merlin rescued from Hengist against Uther’s refusal to do so for Morgana’s sake. Good lord, what a mess.

“She loves you Arthur and you keep stringing her along. She turned Lancelot away for you and yet you’re here, flirting with men before threatening your father for taking what you didn’t want until it was openly on offer to others. We would never treat you like that.”

“You do treat me like that Merlin, both of you. She was attracted to Lancelot since they first met,” Arthur continued with ‘like I was to you’ in his head. “Neither distance nor time has dulled their affection for each other. And it’s not as though you wear a sign about your person declaring ‘I poke men’. I’ve never seen you openly friendly with any man apart from myself and Will... **O**.”

“Yeah, bit obvious in hindsight isn’t it?”

The increasingly awkward pause as their unique way of saying more with minute gestures, expressions and glances than bards manage with words allowed Uther to speak up.

“Let us lay these misconceptions, hopes and fears out on the table and resolve this mess before my son uncovers a third reason to threaten my life.”

####  5.3

The same argument had been going around in circles since they’d reattached their masks to send any conscious revellers on their way then changed into normal attire for the purpose of going home. Merlin had not known to provide any so Arthur returned his blue shirt for the price of a chaste kiss and a promise of more kissing with less chastity in the future.

“It’s dishonest whether you two consider it adultery or not.” Merlin was relentless.

“Do you volunteer to explain the situation to Guinevere Merlin?” Uther asked with a wry smile as they traversed a private entrance into a warren of secret corridors linking the royal suites. 

“Not likely!”

“Then **shut _up_**.” Arthur’s typical retort ended the verbal quarrel but the distorted reasoning of father and son continued to scamper through Merlin’s thoughts like jittery mice.

Arthur only bottomed when he was with a man, never topped. Therefore, as he saw it, he never actually cheated on Guinevere because it’s not as though she could perform those acts upon him. This was most certainly true and so Merlin conceded that point, more for his hormonal benefit than he was willing to allow. Vice versa as he did not insert his pointy bits (Arthur’s words) into any person but Guinevere, he was not performing those acts with another party ergo – no betrayal.

“What about...?” Merlin made the universal gesture for fellatio. “Doesn’t Gwen...?”

“I can’t ask Guinevere to do that! She’s a woman! They don’t enjoy doing that like we do.”

Merlin stopped and stared. He was pretty sure they did. Morgana did it for him once before their frolic in the lake and Freya had been **_very_** enthusiastic about it, **_VERY_**. Uther stifled a chuckle behind his son’s back.

“Won’t Gwen expect to, you know, to her?” Merlin gave another gesture using fingers and tongue. 

“God I hope not, disgusting! Maybe Lancelot can be persuaded...” 

Uther had to excuse himself and stride on ahead to laugh because the conversation had become so ridiculous. He remembered having similar conversations with his peers but they’d been fourteen, not grown men. Perhaps he had excessively sheltered Arthur in trying to avoid the possibility of a Battle of the Bastards succession.

“What about kissing? You’ve kissed Gwen and you whispered something about a proper kiss goodnight while we were getting changed.” Merlin teased. 

Arthur had no justification for that one and so allowed Merlin to claim a point without argument. He did not want Merlin discovering that he still kissed Leon and Gawain on occasion if they fooled around together at a purple. In contrast he didn’t want either of them knowing that was a privilege none of his other playmates received. The topic of lip fidelity was dangerous territory and best avoided.

Uther’s reasoning was just as irrational. He only topped and chose from the most effeminate builds present – a description which set Arthur into fit of barely suppressed laughter and made Merlin fume – so felt separated from the general purple population while remaining true to his vow to bed no female after his wife.

“Apart from a troll,” Arthur had interjected to his own and Merlin’s amusement.

“Do you seek the Court’s endorsement to marry Guinevere, or not?” Uther had asked blandly, effectively quashing any further references to human-troll relations. 

On the whole Merlin conceded it was all rather logical, if you didn’t think like a **normal** person.

####  5.4

“You’re selfish Arthur.” Merlin sprawled naked in the middle of Arthur’s luxurious bed, with his back supported on a pile of the enviable pillows he plumped on a daily basis while perfect, naked Arthur lay flat between his legs with a mouthful of Merlin’s cock. Quite frankly Merlin was in heaven. To be equally frank, so was Arthur.

Arthur drew his mouth to Merlin’s tip, which he licked before replying with a simple “Yes.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Not in this instance, no,” Arthur didn’t care if Merlin expected him to stop sucking and talk. It improved the odds that he’d come in Arthur’s arse instead.

“You’d be bothered if I bottomed for someone else because you refuse to top me.”

Arthur immediately leapt to the attack.

“Who?!”

“Hypocrite.”

Arthur’s libido shut down. His money was on Leon the Incorrigible. 

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Nobody, not yet.”

“Not—Yet?”

Merlin interrupted before the Pendragon temper took hold, touching Arthur’s hair and face lovingly with one hand.

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Such a girl, did it have to be now? How often are we going to be together like this away from purples? Not bloody, that’s how often.”

“You’ll have Gwen to satisfy your other urges.”

“If I was a servant, even a wizardly one, with no obligation to marry, I would make you satisfy all of my urges.”

“Well you’re not and you do so you won’t. Don’t you want our courtship to be fair?”

“Courtship?”

“You’ve been flirting with me long enough, consider me wooed.” Merlin flashed his familiar, cheeky, contagious grin and Arthur smiled back. “I saw some things tonight – we could be together while...” Merlin whispered a detailed ménage au tois tableau where Merlin simultaneously featured as Arthur’s top and another’s bottom. His lips occasionally brushed Arthur’s ear as his fingers traced and danced along Arthur’s bare skin. Arthur touched him in return. They were soon slotted together face to face, bodies sliding in rhythm and Merlin stretching Arthur to welcome his cock. The mutual compromises they discussed as they explored each other were not only fair but extremely arousing. Arthur admitted he’d love to see Merlin’s face as another man sank into him from behind. His ‘ _yes_ ’ of pleasure was in answer to Merlin’s penetrations as well as his propositions. 

“You’re a mine of masculine depravity beneath those feminine tendencies aren’t you Merlin?”

“Are you saying you tapped my vein and hit the mother lode?” 

“I’m saying you’re crude,” Merlin pulled all the way out of him, “rude,” Merlin thrust back in up to his balls in a single stroke, “and unrefined,” Arthur accused with an arch of pleasure. Merlin moved Arthur’s hips in an opposing circle to his own and Arthur came as a result. “Gawh, no wonder I love you.” The first declaration of love may have been sexually induced, offhand, throaty and hoarse but to Merlin it was perfectly Arthur.

“You love me?” Merlin teased with words, facial expression and infinitesimal pumps where he nestled deep inside Arthur’s body. 

“Perhaps.”

“How about now?” Merlin repeated the action with his swollen knob at the verge of Arthur’s ring; it was enough to stretch it then let it close around him again with each movement.

“ _Oh-gn-goh_ , definitely love you _uoh_ more, uh,” Arthur pulled Merlin’s forehead into direct contact with his. “Uh, can you come like that? That’s _hungu-gng-oh_!”

“Depends, how much do you love me?”

“I love you more than I love your cock.” Arthur’s response was broken as he tried to hold still so Merlin could torment his rim so pleasantly. It was so, _hmwah_ indescribably _uumf-imf-uumf_ superlative _oh **god**._

Arthur tense and trying to remain motionless while his hands held their heads together; eyes closed; his sounds puffing warm and damp with his breath into Merlin’s face, the more forceful ones reaching Merlin’s open mouth; his rim rolling in and out along Merlin’s knob – all of it was fantastic, accumulating to bring Merlin too close too quickly. Without warning Arthur pulled Merlin’s head next to his own so their cheeks touched and bluntly exhaled ‘love you’ into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin came undone.

Merlin filled him, pressed his chest tight against Arthur’s – may have strained some ligaments in Arthur’s legs and lower back in doing so but who notices injuries with such distractions – forced his arms under Arthur’s shoulders to share the closest embrace possible and continually kissing his throat, chest, calf, chin, lips, ankle, lips, cheekbone, lips, back of a knee; everything within reach.

Then Merlin began to worry.

####  5.5

Arthur became aware of a hesitancy creeping into Merlin’s actions as the peak of orgasm eroded into gravel. There was an undercurrent of fear lurking beneath the question his ocean eyes asked even though his mouth vetoed putting it into words. Arthur refused to let Merlin think he may have been manipulated not by one Pendragon but two and answered the question that shouldn’t have to be asked.

“Your arrogance and general goofiness caught my attention from the day we met and it grew from there. Rather like a wart.”

Merlin nipped a nipple with his teeth but the encroaching melancholy had been effectively exorcised.

“Like a melon then, or mustard plant. Starts off small and insignificant but then...”

“Grows into something edible?” Arthur ran a thumb gently across Merlin’s lips and agreed with Merlin’s facetious implication. 

Merlin was in no way reminded of his encounter with Uther by the action. Father and son were too dissimilar as were the situations to draw comparisons.

“You _are_ rather edible Merlin, I should have ignored you earlier and sucked your cock a while longer.”

“This would be my cock that you love less than me?”

“That would be the one, unless you’ve got another stashed somewhere. Your quick tongue is going to get you into trouble if you don’t learn to control it.”

Merlin kissed him again. “Perhaps I should keep it busy,” he licked into Arthur’s mouth and moved his lips to Arthur’s ear before Arthur caught his mouth properly, “by licking the cum out of your arse.”

He couldn’t escape this time as Arthur tangled their tongues aggressively.

“Roll over and wave it the air for me.”

Arthur slapped Merlin’s molesting hands away - he certainly had a cheek - then did as he was told. Merlin continued touching and watching him closely. Arthur had never felt so exposed during his adventures with the flock and Merlin’s intimate scrutiny made him nervous.

“There’s one more thing I need to tell you.” Merlin pressed a warm hand and his lips directly below Arthur’s shoulder blade, slid the hand down his side to rest briefly on Arthur’s hip then back up. His physical form was miraculous. To think: that body and the heart and mind living in it loved him. 

“So, tell me then.” Arthur looked with grumpy concern over his shoulder. Merlin kissed his lips then cheek then kissed the words into Arthur’s ear.

“I love you.”

“I already know that. Get licking.”

“Arse,” Merlin nipped his earlobe.

“Precisely.”

Arthur pushed the top of Merlin’s head to steer him in the general direction. Merlin poked a finger into his sticky arse to make him behave; kissed and nipped down the centre of his spine then flicked around, outside and inside Arthur’s ring with his tongue until both oral and anal muscles were tired but before they became sore. Arthur’s throat was both.

Merlin said farewell to Arthur’s skin with a flattened hand then kissed him goodnight.

Arthur showed surprise when Merlin rolled away. Where are you going?” That puzzled frown remained irresistible.

“To my bed, to sleep,” Merlin stated the obvious in a tone that declared he was stating the obvious in case Arthur missed the fact that he was stating the obvious, which he obviously had.

“No you’re not.” Arthur artfully rearranged the spoof-splattered bed covers so he was between them rather than sprawled face down on top in a deliciously naked lump, and flipped a corner back for Merlin. “Clean that up O mightiest warlock in the history of mankind and get in.”

“I...” ‘don’t have clothes’ would have been Merlin’s protest but apparently Arthur had been hoping for – or planning – an opportunity like this.

“There’s a clean set of clothes to fit you in the bottom of the middle drawer. Only you and I, perhaps father, will know you slept here,” he patted the mattress next to his deliciously bare behind, “snuggled up next to me and not all alone in that prison-cell antechamber.”

“Snuggled up to you? **You’re** the girl’s petticoat.”

“Which must make **you** a dollop head.”

Merlin cleaned the stained coverlet with magic as he knelt on the bed and got comfortable next to Arthur. Regardless of which was the girl’s petticoat and who may be a dollop head they proved to be equally guilty of snuggling.

####  6.1

Post midday sun angled into the window of Prince Arthur’s bed chamber and efficiently stabbed directly through the narrow gap between the closed bed curtains to pierce his half-open eye.

It stung like dry buggery.

Sleep came to an abrupt, eye watering end and the day after the night before began in earnest.

_ Merlin _ ...

He lay sleeping under Arthur’s arm, over Arthur’s leg and wedged between Arthur’s pillows. There was no going back from this. Arthur had destroyed fortified boundaries by bringing him here instead of leaving this part of their lives at the flock house and effectively ruined Merlin’s life by doing so.

Selfish, selfish, selfish!

Demarcation was necessary to preserve mutual sanity and maintain Camelot’s dignity:

King + Queen = marriage + castle

Arthur + Merlin = affair + secret

Simple.

Except, nothing about what he felt for Merlin was simple, never had been.

Damn.

Damn his weakness.

Arthur almost managed to free his leg without disturbing Merlin.

“Where’re you going?” Merlin mumbled into the nearest pillow.

“Princely duties.”

“You can just say ‘chamberpot’ or ‘need to piss’. You don’t have to be pretentiously euphemistic.”

His snarky nonchalance put Arthur somewhat at ease. Merlin wasn’t about to become all soppy and romantic because they’d finally come together. Better have ‘the talk’ now while the opportunity presented itself, a talk he should have been man enough to have with Guinevere before leaving the green he invited her to. Arthur settled next to Merlin again, tracing his spine from nape to lower ribs with four fingertips when he’d prefer to use his lips. Merlin turned to face him with a dozy, satisfied smile. He very much liked what Arthur was doing.

“I thought you had Princing to do.”

“Something more important has come up – not that.” Merlin’s lewd smile and eye flirtation almost succeeded in making a liar out of him. “This won’t be a regular occurrence, you spending the night in my bed.”

“You’re saying we made a mistake!” Merlin accused angrily. He should have quit while he was ahead and started with Leon before his Host showed up. He should not have been surprised to discover Arthur wasn’t the lover Merlin hoped he was but a heartless prat who thought with his testicles and treated Merlin no better than he had Gwen, like Merlin feared he would. He’d been right last night in not choosing Arthur but wrong in his chosen alternative. Both Pendragons could piss off to hell.

Though unaware of precisely which hordes of wrath charged through Merlin’s head, Arthur felt Merlin’s anger was justified and chose his next words carefully.

“Loving you Merlin is no mistake. Making love to you is not a mistake. Wanting to sleep and wake up next to you is not a mistake. Letting myself do that without regard for your expectations or the consequences to your reputation was.”

One word in all of that made a difference and Merlin partially closed the emotional distance he’d been rapidly putting between them.

“You said ‘is’.”

“What?” Arthur felt sure he said ‘is’ a number of times and failed to see its significance.

“ _Wanting to sleep and wake up to you **is** not a mistake,_ not ‘was’. You still want to.” It sounded like a question-accusation half breed.

“Yes I do.” Why was Merlin angry about that? 

“But you won’t.”

“No.” Arthur became irritated as well as confused. Merlin’s next two phrases stung worse than a sunbeam in the eye.

“Never again.”

“Hopefully not never, just not often.”

“Would you be upset if I said never?” Merlin knew he was being a bastard but his heart spent eighteen long hours being put through a series of wringers and didn’t particular care what damage he inflicted on another’s.

“Does it need saying?” Arthur was beyond the borders of ‘so you don’t love me’ and into ‘bugger off Merlin’ territory now. His father been right and Merlin had been playing him for a fool all along. Why hadn’t he asked Gawain for a tumble instead of going after bloody Merlin? _Night without regret_ my arse!

“No,” Merlin’s voice, gaze and posture softened, “your expression said it for you. As long as I know we’re suffering equally and you’re not sprouting platitudes to keep me on a leash I have no qualms about giving Camelot priority. Just promise not to bring other men home.”

“You— **tormenting** — ** _turd_**!” Arthur was so relieved he could slap Merlin’s arse burgundy.

“Either politely get out so I can go back to sleep or come closer and rudely wake me up.”

Arthur rolled away and Merlin muttered.

“Insensitive clotpole, you were supposed to choose angry make up sex.”

“That would rather defeat the purpose of this conversation Merlin, and I’m sure you’ll find some other reason to yell at me before sunset,” Arthur grumbled. His main task today involved talking to Guinevere; apologising for reducing their one evening of romantic intimacy to a dishonourable liaison and making his vaguely more honourable intentions clear. Merlin would definitely be yelling at him after that. They both would. As long as he still had Merlin at the end of it, angry make up sex or no, a dual earbashing was worth it. “I’ll lock you in so no-one disturbs your slumber.” He rummaged through different drawers for socks, tunic and trousers. 

“Who’s going to disturb me? You haven’t let any other servants in here since I was chained up by that pair of witches.” Merlin openly ogled Arthur’s bare bottom until a shirt covered it, lucky shirt.

“True, but keeping you safe has become one habit I shan’t surrender willingly.” 

“And how will I get out?”

Arthur bestowed his familiar ‘I hereby declare you an idiot’ expression and Merlin smiled back.

“I like knowing that you know.”

Arthur leaned over the bed and kissed him then returned to getting dressed.

“I know you do. One other thing, when next you see Leon or...”

“Act normal, Pheasant explained that to me.”

“For heaven’s sake don’t call him that out here; and don’t act too normal, nobody will recognise you.” Arthur teased with a mischievous glance from the corner of his eye as he fastened his belt.

“Oh ha!”

“Give me a lie to explain your absence to Gaius.”

“No need, if **you** tell him anything he’ll know the truth. Apparently he and my mother suspect we’ve been doing this for years. Word will be on its way to Ealdor before you turn your back. Mother will be thrilled.” Merlin certainly was now they’d survived their first lover’s tiff.

“I always liked your mother, despite her cooking.” Hmm, not the most tactful thing to say Arthur realised.

“Keep your hands off her you hussy and what’s wrong with her cooking?”

“It’s almost as bad as yours, trollop.” Considering Merlin had now been naked with every member of Arthur’s family, Pendragon the younger found that hussy remark hypocritical and a tad insulting.

Merlin tossed a pillow at Arthur’s head. Arthur laughed a single ‘ha!’ of triumph as it flew to the right, only to cop it full in the face as Merlin used magic to change its flight path.

Merlin chortled as Arthur pointed the key at him in a scolding manner, left and locked him in. Settling back into the pillows and adjusting the covers Merlin reflected on his original expectations of post-coital Arthur. He’d been correct regarding the gorgeous naked lump, face buried in a pillow but wrong about the grumbling; doubly wrong about Arthur not wanting Merlin lounging about all over him; correct in his assumption of too extraordinary to remain comfortable, his first time with Arthur had certainly been extraordinary and their recent conversation had not been entirely comfortable; wrong about too familiar to be profound. The difference in their relationship affected every word, action and reaction since waking up. Maintaining daily routines was going to be more difficult than he anticipated. He understood now why Arthur kept his distance with Gwen and that understanding was accompanied by the knowledge that Arthur had yet to commit to Gwen because the majority of Arthur’s love had been reserved for him.

Merlin was the one Arthur broke the most rules for, not Gwen and more important rules at that. Merlin was the one he had the courage to explain everything to instead of taking the coward’s way out and stringing him along. Poor Gwen; but sympathy for Gwen did not suppress Merlin’s happiness one jot. 

He was a _very_ happy warlock as he pulled the pillow his Arthur had slept on close to his face and inhaled the smell of him.

_ Arthur is my responsibility, my lover, my  _ destiny _._

Mine.

####  6.2

Whether working the pre-dawn shift or partying until dawn there was one thing the men of Camelot agreed on as they discussed their night: it had been the longest in known history. Never before had every candle and torch burned to nothing before the sun made an appearance. Those they talked to during shift crossover declared that after a few nights like that they would have caught up on the sleep sorely lacking since the last invasion of Camelot’s borders. One gloating man received a black eye from an exhausted workmate.

Gwen heard her female colleagues discussing the same thing all morning, with the added juicy morsel of gossip that even with the elongated hours of darkness Prince Arthur had not made an appearance downstairs until half an hour past noon – and the king had not complained about his absence at court once! Perhaps the female visitor they were so hurriedly preparing for had arrived early and was not some crone linked to the late queen, rest her soul, but the possible **future** queen and Uther had allowed them this time to ‘become acquainted’.

The constant tittering and innuendo rubbed Gwen to the bone.

Merlin’s evasion of her subtle questioning when she met him leaving Arthur’s chamber an hour after noon added salted vinegar to her wounds.

“How was your party?”

“Surprising.”

“Are they new clothes? It’s about time, they suit you. No wonder you couldn’t afford new boots.”

“Erm, thank you. They were a gift.”

“Like the boots? I thought you said they were uncomfortable.” ‘Rather like you at present’ she thought.

Merlin looked at his feet; his familiar brown boots remained in his room. He couldn’t walk barefoot without drawing attention and hoped these boots would go unnoticed until he could change. As he’d spent the majority of the previous night sitting down or naked he’d forgotten how uncomfortable the black boots were after as little as five minutes walking in them and now he’ll be stuck in them all day. Damn.

“Not entirely. We’re not supposed to talk about **those** things.”

“It was a long night, wasn’t it?” Gwen figured she may as well talk servant to servant seeing how friend to friend wasn’t getting her anywhere. She was rewarded with a fleeting, pink cheeked and bright-eyed grin before Merlin stifled his apparent joy. So unfair, she answered his questions about the evening she spent with Arthur and now Merlin had finally found someone who not only invited him to parties but showered him with gifts and he wasn’t sharing any details. Fine, she ignored the intriguing puzzle of Merlin’s love life and asked the question burning the biggest hole through her heart.

“Is it true Arthur spent the night with a woman Uther wants him to marry?”

Again the pink cheeked, bright eyed grin made an appearance only to be swept away. This time a euphoric dimple refused to be completely erased and lingered in a taunting manner.

“No.”

Gone were the days when Merlin could be trusted to complain about Arthur’s behaviour with Gwen. They used to wax eloquent about his royal high and mightiness but the majority of Merlin’s loyalty had gradually shifted to Arthur. Now the transition was complete. Gwen was saddened by this loss of confidence between them, not least because Merlin made the perfect spy.

“You two deserve each other!” she snapped nonsensically and strode away to resume her afternoon’s labour completely unaware that she and Merlin shared an identical thought:

Why did she say that?

####  6.3

Gwen stood in Morgana’s former suite, arms around her waist in a self-comforting embrace, staring at the wooden screen behind which four younger friends had hidden a frightened, injured Druid boy. Morgana was gone, Arthur was as confusingly Arthur as ever and apparently Merlin no longer appreciated her companionship. Once she had been rich in friends despite material poverty, as her worldly status improved her circle of friends narrowed to a dot. Still a servant though, now she had lower servants answering to her; wooed by a prince only to be ignored; cherished by a man in similar circumstances only to be abandoned then kept at arm’s length when he returned; supposedly loved by two yet pursued by none. The fading day provided nothing but melancholy musings.

She was supposed to be preparing these rooms for a new resident, once again presumed to be some distant kinswoman of Arthur’s mother or suchlike, rumours varied by the hour but all she could do was weep over what had been, what should be and what despair may yet arrive.

This was how Arthur found her, as if her day could not get any worse!

“Guinevere?” 

His concern and immediate comforting embrace contradicted so many silences and awkward avoidances since that wretched period after their wonderful evening. Damn him. She repeatedly told him so between sobs.

“Damn you Arthur.”

Each time he responded with an “I know, I’m sorry” as mournful as her curses.

His embrace was different. Not cold exactly, closer to fraternal or platonic as if bracing himself to tell her something. Gwen was tempted to spit a venomous ‘who is she’ into his face but she held her tongue. Why torment her exhausted heart further?

“I have something difficult to ask of you Guinevere, and something more difficult to express sensibly before I can ask it. It has to be done soon or I would not mention...your distress...” 

Was he going to propose **_now_**? After so much indecision and anguish between the pair of them why would he choose **today** of all days – unless the arrival of this enigmatic kinswoman prompted his actions.

“I think it had better be now, don’t you Arthur, before you find some reason to avoid me again.”

Arthur admitted he deserved that with a sheepish grimace and double checked the door he had already locked behind him lest they be disturbed. They sat on Morgana’s chaise lounge, side by side and hand in hand as Arthur told her many things she never would have guessed in a thousand lifetimes, some she had suspected at irregular intervals and one that made her laugh in his face.

“I knew that! Lancelot told me months ago not knowing that Merlin had already told me months before that. The three of you are rather pitiful excuses for friends if you don’t tell each other when you tell me something.”

“So now you know the whole.”

“Do I really?” she teased with a saucy smirk and was rewarded with a mild scowl that told her enough to guess what details were missing. Gwen was not about to ruin any chances of becoming Queen by throwing a temper tantrum. At least three riddles had been solved by Arthur’s confession, removing the heaviest burdens from her mind.  “Before you ask your momentous question I think I should talk to Merlin first...and you, we, no you – at least **one** of us should talk to Lancelot.”

“Perhaps we should all discuss it together.”

“We’ll make a diplomat of you yet Your Highness.”

“Shut up.”

“Or not,” Gwen rolled her eyes to the side and stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me My Lord, I have work to do.”

“And you do it well. Guinevere, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not thinking less of me...”

“The moods you’ve put me in recently have made it impossible for me to think any less of you.” She delivered her tart insult with amused superiority and set to work as he left, questioning his sanity and devising a plan to become a monk under his breath. He truly was infuriating – and all sorts of wonderful.

Damn him.

####  6.4

To outside appearances Uther may have appeared to have sanctioned the relationship between Arthur and Merlin quickly and easily. More fool those who believed his mind was so fickle, yet there were two reasons to maintain that charade for as long as possible. 

The first was he loved his son and his ill-considered actions had caused Arthur devastating emotional pain. Never had Uther seen such defeat and despair in the face that would be king. Knowing that he had broken his son’s heart just as an earlier poorly made decision had stolen his wife’s life brought shame and guilt the likes of which Uther had never experienced to stifle his soul. Arthur was everything, his contentment paramount. He had already lost Morgana to Morgause and Ygraine to Nimueh’s falsehoods disguised as truth, damned if he would lose Arthur and any remaining legacy of Ygraine to a monumental lapse in judgement. Let Camelot be overrun by hedgehogs and fall rather than cause his son further anguish.

The second reason was that Merlin’s trial continued. Arthur’s future as king could not be sacrificed any more than his happiness. Merlin’s behaviour following this perceived victory would see him either accepted as Arthur’s compliment or swinging from the gallows. 

There was a bothersome something else between the pair, something that teased at Uther’s peripheral vision like an attempt to glimpse his profile in a mirror, plainly visible to others yet forever denied him. It made him uneasy. Merlin had been accused of sorcery in the past, strange things happened around him too often not to cause suspicion but which was cause and which effect? Did coincidental eerie phenomena generate rumours of magic or did magic create these phenomena? He and Arthur had been the last men standing on too many occasions. Did the circumstances of Arthur’s conception and birth contaminate his son? Was he cursed by Uther’s mistakes? Merlin heard the words Morgause claimed to be those of Ygraine and used to manipulate Arthur. Did he share Uther’s suspicions? 

  _Where treads one, the other follows;_ words spoken over Ygraine’s expanding pregnancy which husband and wife first joyfully interpreted as a promise of twins, then widower believed meant life and death as his beloved perished soon after their son’s birth. Now Uther saw it as something more, an incomprehensible omen and that ignorance filled him with dread deeper, darker and danker than any well. Since meeting, Merlin and Arthur had moved around each other like dominant chess pieces; like earth and sun, tides and moon; their roles changing as each situation demanded.

With every hour Uther became convinced Merlin was inextricably linked to Arthur’s doom.

####  7.1

Arthur found it difficult to focus on training. 

His father rarely visited the practise field, showing confidence in Arthur’s methods and allowing him to exert the full weight of his authority in this environment. The King’s presence was not a coincidence. Arthur knew his father had yielded too readily to be genuinely satisfied with the situation but last night he had been too euphoric and horny to care.

He tried not to glance in Merlin’s direction, with little success. Not that Arthur was mooning over him precisely, more concerned for his welfare lest he inadvertently bring the wrath of Uther Pendragon down upon their heads...and occasionally mooning. What in heaven’s name brought about such girlish behaviour? There had been none of this sentimentality after his first colour party and he’d been making regular passes at his original sponsor since the age of fourteen, despite continually being dismissed with a laugh and told ‘maybe when you come of age’.

But this was more than some adolescent fancy that had evolved into adult entertainment. Until last night he believed his attachment to Merlin would remain one sided, his desires too impossible to be more than a source of contention between emotion and reason. To prevent further instances of mooning Arthur reflected on the negative aspects of what happened between them. As always his temper was quick to rise and Arthur put three opponents through their paces at once with no further inclination to appreciate Merlin’s cheekbones. Names surged through his head in a provoking chant: Merlin Morgana, Merlin Uther, Merlin Morgana, Merlin Uther...

Sir Ivan was too slow to deflect the increasingly aggressive blows and Arthur’s quarterstaff fractured his shin. Arthur tossed down his weapon and stormed off the field, stripping off helmet, gauntlet and gloves before throwing himself flat on his back in the shade, one arm over his eyes.

Morgana, Uther, Arthur. Good thing his mother was dead or Merlin may have bedded her too. Good god in heaven, why did such thoughts enter his head? Was he determined to poison everything they shared with paranoid delusions? Is this the madness his father suffered, turning innocents and loved ones into enemies because he could not let go of the past?

Of course, if Arthur had bothered to make his interest in Merlin known earlier he may not have dallied with Morgana in the lake and certainly would not have gone off with the masked stranger he truly had no way of knowing was actually the king. A boot nudged his hip and Arthur uncovered his eyes to see Merlin looking at down at him, less than impressed yet very much in love.

Arthur denied the urge to pull Merlin down for a kiss followed by a semi-naked roll in the grass, but only just. Obeying the flock’s out-of-house rules of behaviour obviously proved difficult for them both as it was.

 

####  7.2

Thanks to Merlin, Lancelot had been persuaded to return to Camelot while well aware that the best he could aspire to was ‘squire’ under Uther’s rule. Thus Arthur, rival for Gwen’s affections, appointed him squire to Sir Leon, ensuring Lancelot received adequate education in the ways of the nobility. Their habit of picking on Lancelot to demonstrate techniques allowed him to train as a knight and share his experience with those who should be his peers. The fact that he frequently beat Arthur when sparring caused them all to work harder. Snobbery goaded competition, erased complacency and brought the cream of the army to the top. 

Lancelot remained off the field as Uther chose to observe his elite guards in training, providing an opportunity to converse with Gwen; although her attention seemed unusually caught on Merlin.

“I know what you’re thinking,” his voice was warm, like the embrace they would be sharing if she could love one man instead of two, if he would stop being noble and claim her for his bride.

“No, I **really** don’t think you do.” Her tone was by majority amused but with a noticeable hint of self-mockery, leading him to believe his assumption was correct.

“You’re thinking he is the reason **he** has yet to propose and that he probably never will.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Surely you’ve heard others compare them to a married couple, look at them!”

Arthur tossed his quarterstaff and some of his armour onto the grass as he ignored the man he’d just injured and lay on his back in the shade with one arm tented over his face. Merlin nudged him with one foot and offered a drink of water only to pull the cup fashioned from bull horn away from Arthur’s grasp while pointing to the items he’d so carelessly discarded. Using whispers Lancelot filled in the voices he and Gwen were too far to hear:

_ Look at the mess you made of my nice clean floor, pick it up! _

Surely you jest.

_ I most surely do not. _

I’ve been burning Druids and fighting Blast-ended Skrewts all day...

_ I’m not giving you  _ anything _until you prove you love me my picking up after yourself!_

Gwen laughed as Arthur grumpily got to his feet just as Lancelot finished his nagging wife impersonation, then with an exaggerated swagger collected up each of the dropped items and delivered them to Merlin who then handed over the drink with a smugly amused smile.

“Wife will now give husband a little kiss to let him know he’s back in the good books...”

Gwen backhanded Lancelot’s forearm while smothering her laughter with her other hand and Lancelot chuckled. His performance would have convinced her had she not already heard the truth from Arthur.

“ **He** invited me to dinner tonight.”

“The time has come perhaps to lay aside his preferred wife and claim his proper one.”

Although much fun may be had with that sentence, Gwen let it pass.

“He agreed that you should join us.”

“If I decline?” Arthur possibly fooling around with Merlin was one thing, involving Gwen in multiplayer debauchery was something Lancelot would neither condone nor participate in.

“You may regret that decision.”

Perhaps Gwen was not the genteel example of womanhood Lancelot believed she was.

“If I attend?”

“You may be pleasantly surprised, or you may also regret that decision. I did insist we include you for a reason.”

“What gentleman could possibly refuse your enigmatic smile my Lady?” Sir Leon left the field as Arthur returned to it - without a kiss from Merlin – and Lancelot now had duties to fulfil. “That scene was not meant entirely in jest. If he has misused you he will not live long to regret it. I promise you.”

 

####  7.3

Perhaps if Merlin buffed this leather a little harder he could ignore the curve of Arthur’s bottom as he bent over to assist his felled colleague and perhaps the memory of that bottom, naked and welcoming would find somewhere else to play... _aah,_ _not there_! 

Perhaps if Gawain kept his hands off Arthur’s back or shoulder for more than five minutes Merlin would not contemplate magically decapitating him then reattaching his head backwards. 

Perhaps if Merlin concentrated on **not** catching his torn fingernail in the links of chainmail he was examining for flaws he would not be tempted to stand in the middle of the field and demand to know who among them had enjoyed a piece of his Arthur.

Merlin’s mind refused to follow a single thought through to the end, Arthur related or not. He tried not to look Arthur’s way too often, realising that it would be out of the ordinary if he did not look at all while wondering how often he had looked before.

There were now so many events attached to that word it made him nervous: **before** he discovered Arthur enjoyed intimacy with men; **before** he gave Uther detailed instructions on how to satisfy him; **before** he understood what Arthur felt for him and Gwen; **before** they kissed; **before** Arthur stripped him, touched him and sucked his cock to attention; **before** he came inside Arthur...

How had he missed that? 

With Morgana and Will magical energy had surged forth uncontrolled with Merlin’s orgasm. That was how the tree fell on old Whosits-face in Ealdor. With Uther there had been nothing. With Arthur, the one he was connected to on every plane of consciousness –temporal, spiritual, emotional and mental– the moment of release should have caused them to burn bright as the heart of a star yet there had been nothing.

His body stirred with memories of his hours with Arthur; how they felt and sounded together; visions of skin pale and flushed, the scent of Arthur’s sweaty hair; the taste of the inside of Arthur’s mouth, inside his...

All that long night, well technically morning - it couldn’t have. He’d dismissed repeated talk of the longest night in history as common exaggeration. Surely his repeated thought of ‘don’t let this night end’...

He’d slowed the turn of the earth, delaying the sunrise simply to avoid having to say goodnight. The temporary acceleration of freshwater fish reproductive cycles resulting from sex with Morgana was minor by comparison. The earth turned at a certain speed for a reason; prolonged alteration of fundamental scientific laws was the most dangerous application of magic imaginable and he had done it by accident! 

What manner of monster was Merlin that he could endanger the entire world without being aware of it? As he asked that question one corner of his mind rejoiced. What could possibly threaten him when time and space could be bent to Merlin’s will? Sanity prevailed and the exultant voice was silenced. Unless Merlin learned to control his talent properly he would be saying ‘never again’ to Arthur after all.

 

####  7.4

Uther paid close attention to the main players on the stage before him.

Arthur and Merlin performed their familiar dance centring on unresolved sexual tension as if the hours spent in Arthur’s room had been insufficient to dull the edge of attraction. But when one considered their mutual yearning had been denied for years, an uninterrupted week in bed together may not be enough.

As long as nothing appeared out of the ordinary Uther had no reason to threaten Merlin, which was almost a shame. Despite the influence a raunchy and naked Merlin had over him during the night, by day the king still considered him the most irritating person in Camelot. Increasing age had limited Uther’s hobbies and patience dramatically and the expression on Merlin’s face the last time he threatened to hang him had been priceless. Arthur’s early preoccupation with getting his servant sent to the stocks at every opportunity finally made sense. Uther had to admire his son’s ability to manipulate those around him, proving himself a more subtle strategist than Morgause. 

Arthur’s future weighed heavily on his mind at present due to Lady Kerensa from the kingdom of Caerleon who was currently seated beside him. The first cousin of his late wife Ygraine could only have waited so long after the Queen’s death to undertake this pilgrimage to her grave if there were something material to be gained from the journey. While Ygraine and Kerensa had been close, the Lady had taken an instant dislike to Uther and strenuously discouraged the match. Uther’s recent actions were partially prompted by her sudden – and therefore suspicious – inclination to travel to the city of Camelot. Sure enough, a previously unmentioned maiden daughter and a son accompanied her. Strategically a marriage between the cousins would be a blessing but Uther wanted Arthur to confront the Merlin issue before Kerensa arrived. He obviously would not take a wife while besotted with his manservant. Uther initially intended for Arthur to have his tumble and get over it, forbidden fruit was always the most appealing after all. If the pair remained lovers that information could be used to scare away the potential bride or at the very least provide a pleasant distraction for the groom should Rioghnach prove to be as intolerable as her mother. 

Siblings Rioghnach and Drostan compared Camelot’s knights and courtly dress to those in Caerleon with their attendants. Lady Kerensa watched with shrewd eyes and delivered terse comments such as:

“He’s a towering fellow.”

“Clumsy ox!”

“That one has your temper.”

Arthur stalked off the field and Uther despaired at the domesticity implicit in the following interactions between Crown Prince and servant.

“Yes, he must be Ygraine’s son to tolerate such insolence from a peasant. Patience with those least worthy of her notice proved her downfall.”

“Arthur possesses many of his mother’s qualities. She would be proud of the man her son has become.” Uther ignored Kerensa’s barb and for the first time since Arthur’s birth was glad his wife did not sit beside him. Optimistic and generous she may have been but Ygraine would never accept Arthur’s preference for the company of men. She had been appalled to discover that soldiers on protracted campaigns often sought comfort and release with each other when there were no women available. To know her son hoped to earn his first serious kiss at the age of fourteen from an older peer when there were dozens of girls willing to bestow more than that would have made her cry. Discovering what Arthur eventually received from Leon would have sent her into hysterics. But then if Ygraine had lived their son may favour women as he should, perhaps, one could never be sure how such things began. 

“What’s that woman doing down there? Is she not a maidservant in the castle?”

“Guinevere is the daughter of a blacksmith and is more capable of preparing and repairing blades or armour than any squire. The Lady Morgana, daughter of Sir Gorlois, valued her companionship for many years.”

“So she’s the one.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Her reputation as a handmaiden precedes her. Guinevere shall be my personal attendant during our stay. Perhaps she may be persuaded to accompany us when we leave.”

“Perhaps,” Uther falsely conceded, thinking ‘and perhaps dragons may be persuaded to blow bubbles’.

His son approached them as the training session came to an end. Arthur did not greet his father nor acknowledge their guests.

“You may have noticed my difficulty in maintaining my distance. You should have let things be. Do not interfere in my affairs again.” He turned to leave. 

“That is all? Have you no manners with which to properly greet your mother’s cousin?”

Arthur had not noticed the blond woman and her children seated near the king until she questioned him. He turned back and replied with equal disdain.

“I have shown all the deference due to any who wait so long to pay proper respect to the husband and son of a supposedly beloved kinswoman. If you will excuse me Father, there are others more worthy of my attention.”

Lady Kerensa stood and gestured for her children to do the same as she haughtily addressed Camelot’s King.

“Yes. Your temper ruins that boy. Then again, Ygraine also preferred to follow the direction set by her heart rather than reason. Her son seems to have inherited the worst of both parents. Let us hope he does not meet the same tragic fate as his mother, dying at the hand of a man whose affections mask a terrible and selfish agenda.”

Uther remained stone-faced and rigid in his seat as the serpent in fine brocade retired to the prepared suite, unsure as to whether she had just threatened his life or his son’s. 

####  8.1

“Arthur, we need to talk.” Merlin managed to keep any hesitancy from manner and voice as he placed the royal meal on the table.

“Indeed we do,” Arthur agreed from inside a clean shirt as he pulled it on over bath-damp hair. “I’ve arranged to dine with Lancelot and Guinevere this evening. Father has already concocted an alibi to explain my absence to Lady Kerensa and her offspring. You will be joining us won’t you?”

He ruffled his hair in a futile attempt to dry it further. Merlin wanted to sit him on the end of the bed and vigorously rub his head with a towel while they talked, but there was no time for what that might lead to. Merlin had never thought about sex so much in his life. Every little oddity that had become an integral part of his relationship with Arthur now seemed nothing more than an opportunity for foreplay. Knowing it must never happen again caused such thoughts to taunt him.

“No Arthur, I won’t. Gaius,” Merlin’s invented excuse was decapitated by a wave of Arthur’s hand.

“Don’t lie. He knows. If you’re brushing me off at least have the decency to be honest about it.” Arthur suspected Merlin’s theme for discussion might be more ominous than his and had tried to distract him from it. How much emotional torment was Arthur expected to endure in twenty four hours? Best get this over with. He gestured for Merlin to sit next to him and gave him an apple. “So talk, don’t drag it out.”

Merlin looked at the apple and verbally poured his heart into it. Merlin’s finger touched the skin of the apple and it began to spin. The motion of the fruit sped and slowed to match Merlin’s speech. Arthur would have laughed if he wasn’t caught in the same turmoil.

“I love you, hopefully you understand how truly I mean that and how deeply I feel it but… Last night my magic… I’m not entirely sure I’m human after what it did. Being with you… I discovered I can change the universe. I would, for you and that isn’t right. Until I learn to control this power within me we can’t.” The apple ceased. Merlin gently flattened hands palms against the table top.

“Then you better get practicing.”

Arthur’s soft, matter-of-fact reply turned Merlin’s eyes in his direction. Although his focus appeared to be on his plate Merlin saw the remainder of his thought as if the words were written around him: _I refuse to lose you to my father’s executioner or to your magic._ Merlin rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur’s cheek immediately rested upon Merlin’s dark hair and a strong arm curved around his back.

They sat like that until the altered angle of the sun let them know they lingered too long.

####  8.2

Things had changed since the three visitors were last in Camelot. Lives had taken new directions down unexpected paths.

“Did you notice your brother’s behaviour toward the warlock?” Kerensa asked Rioghnach as the younger blond woman reacquainted herself with familiar rooms. Rioghnach would not be sleeping here though.

“Perhaps you should abandon this plan of regaining her rightful throne through incestuous marriage and arrange a marriage between yourself and Uther as previously suggested. Then this new element can be used to our advantage, allowing us to eliminate both threats at once. When you murder your husband, we shed our disguises and Morgana becomes queen. A far less complicated plan,” Drostan stated calmly.

“Do not use our true names,” Rioghnach scolded mildly. “The enchantment binding us to these disguises is strengthened each time our enemies speak them and weakened when we do.”

“My apologies _Sister_ ,” Drostan replied with amusement. Morgana’s name was spoken so often she would likely continue to resemble Arthur Pendragon’s cousin three weeks after death.

“The boy has a point. Time to encourage some gossip among the peasantry, come along children,” Lady Kerensa frowned at her reflection. “I expected the favoured cousin of Ygraine to have more fashionable taste.”

####  8.3

Books!

A man can never have access to too many books!

It was this shared sentiment that ensured Sir Geoffrey and plain Gaius remained the closest of platonic friends during and after the Great Purge. Gaius kept hush on the quantities of books that had not been burned and Geoffrey kept hush when Gaius perused them.

“If only the king knew how often information he ordered destroyed saved his kingdom!” Sir Geoffrey exclaimed, fondly replacing several books that did not meet Gaius’ needs.

“Then we would both be dead. I think this is the one. I shall return it via the usual processes.”

“And I shall continue to know nothing about those processes. Now about this boil…”

His eyes may be old and tired but Gaius had learned the trick to reading rapidly in his youth and while it appeared to be magic it most certainly was not. His body insisted the time approached midnight when the sun insisted early evening. The odd rise and fall of Merlin’s moods during the day roused suspicion, a suspicion fed by similar behaviour in the Crown Prince.

There had to be something he could find to help. He had to find it soon. Whatever had happened during the dark hours of the longest night had such a profound impact on Merlin’s power it became a visible sheen on the surface of his skin. If left unchecked it would eventually become an aura and then even those without latent magical ability would see him for what he was.

Here!

Gaius did the unthinkable and performed an enchantment that copied the necessary information onto one of many blank parchments tightly rolled and hidden in the legs of his bed. He really should teach Merlin that one so he wasn’t continually lugging forgeries in and out of the castle library.

“Silly me,” he said as he passed Geoffrey on his way out of the library. “I have had that information all along and only now remembered where it is written down.”

“Such is the price of a long life my friend, we fail to remember half of it.”

####  8.4

“You’re late!”

No, actually, Merlin was early. “Earlier than Lancelot and Gwen anyway,” he muttered.

“I needed to run something by you first and you’ve left no opportunity for leading up to it so here goes:”

Nothing came out of Arthur’s open mouth but silence.

“Yes, I see why that couldn’t wait, very interesting.”

“Shut up. You’ve just made everything worse as usual. We can’t, you say, look: there’s a ceremony associated with the kind of party we went to. Did anyone explain the important relationship between certain names?”

Arthur’s verbal wandering made Merlin confused before he finally said something that made sense. “Yes, like ours.”

Merlin’s shoulder was given a squeeze. “Precisely, like ours. This ceremony occurs before partnered names are taken…”

“Like a betrothal? But…”

“I know nothing physical can happen between us until you master your power but…”

His expression coupled with the minute trembling of his hand on Merlin’s shoulder said it all. _He asked me first, he is going to properly propose to Gwen in a matter of minutes and asked to be bound to me in that other world first!_

Merlin answered with a kiss warm and soft as a breath. “I’d like that.”

## 8.5

Lancelot found Arthur’s good humour contagious and settled back to thoroughly enjoy the company of his friends once he realised nothing kinky would be going on. The four shared battle stories and Lancelot was pleased with the praise Gwen received from prince and warlock.

“So they should boast on your behalf,” he insisted jovially at her modest protests. “You are far too humble. That a warrior such as Arthur considers your courage and efforts worth bragging about is no small thing.”

“Arthur’s just saying that because he thinks I’m cute, and you’re no better!”

The companions laughed comfortably. Her words held no sting. He could feel her conflicting love for them both and admired her. Where others may see Gwen’s indecision for weakness he saw it for what it was: the inability to break a heart without justification. If Gwen could love one man a smidgeon more than the other, enough to tip the balance, if she felt one man’s affection less worthy of reciprocation then there would be no hesitation on her part. He loved her and could see why Arthur did. In truth he found it more difficult to understand how any man could not! Arthur’s shrewd gaze indicated he saw to the truth of the matter and the tone quickly turned serious as he spoke.

“I have a tremendous favour to ask of you Lancelot, one that will ask you to sacrifice a hefty portion of your happiness on behalf of my people – our people. It will not be taken completely from you because that would not be fair to any of us seated at this table. A compromise of the heart and hopefully not of your superior morals,” Arthur introduced the topic at the centre of this gathering.

By the pride on Merlin’s face and the shy yet bright curiosity in Gwen’s this had nothing to do with debauchery, everything to do with making Gwen ‘Queen Guinevere of Camelot’. How could it not destroy Lancelot’s hopes of happiness completely?

“Let’s here this marginally immoral compromise,” Lancelot prompted lightly.

Arthur looked to Merlin who smiled with his eyes, nothing more, nothing less and Arthur turned back to Lancelot and continued. “You and I share a profound love for a remarkable woman, the only woman I have ever considered to be a worthy future Queen of Camelot. In asking your permission to marry Guinevere and elevate her to that position I also offer the opportunity for you both to share a legitimate romantic union away from public eyes.”

“How can adultery be legitimate?” Gwen asked pointedly, although her moral high ground sat upon a foundation of hope. Could she really be spared the choice and be happy without making someone else miserable?

“Told you it was adultery,” Merlin declared smugly. Arthur’s kick to Merlin’s shin beneath the table made his pompous smile grow into a grin.

Lancelot leaned forward and asked for further information. Surprisingly Arthur turned to Gwen first and asked her a question.

“Do you remember a particular invitation-only party we attended recently?”

“You call that recently? Do you live as long as a tortoise?”

Arthur let that go although Merlin chortled. “Ever wonder why you have only been invited to one?”

“I assumed you are a pig,” Gwen quipped and Merlin guffawed. Gwen’s eyes remained merry as she turned to him. “Mr Chuckles here is the other reason.”

Lancelot laughed as Merlin stopped and flushed a shade of red deeper than his scarf and Arthur’s shirt.

“Two out of three isn’t bad. Do you remember any of the Green rules particularly the ones pertaining to outside marriage?” Arthur asked calmly. He wasn’t about to defend Merlin’s honour if it meant denying those too few hours they spent together. Until Merlin harnessed his magical talents there’d be no more of that and Arthur had to consider the very real possibility that he would never be naked with Merlin again.

“I’m not a noble.”

“If you and Lancelot agree, then when we marry you will be. If we both refer Lancelot for membership with the express purpose of being your fidelity companion your relationship will be considered honourable by the court and all our reputations remain untainted.”

“Fidelity companion, is that my official title?” Merlin asked with a hint of cheek and this time Arthur’s complexion took on a rosy pink hue.

As amusing as that was, Lancelot remained confused. “I fail to understand what any of you are prattling on about.”

“There are certain houses within Camelot’s extended borders where members of the nobility may meet socially with people society would normally forbid…”

“Not a bordello,” Gwen insisted hurriedly to allay Lancelot’s suspicions. Gwen had thought a similar thing when Arthur began explaining the true meaning of the green-edged card he placed in her hand. “No money or goods are exchanged just company. The Host provides a discreet location for conversation and romance, promising a night of friendly revelry without shame. It’s really quite lovely.”

Arthur replied directly to her lovely brown eyes. “I thought so too. Even as Queen there will be those who treat you as a glorified serving girl, as nothing more than a consort. Camelot needs you despite that. At least I can offer you a few nights per month of a guilt-free private relationship, free from external judgement with the man who didn’t have to change to deserve you.” He turned to Lancelot. “According to the Green rules you and Guinevere are to be considered married while on any Green property. At all other times and in public Guinevere will be my wife and any liaisons between you would carry the penalty attached to infidelity.” Lancelot, Guinevere and even Merlin were surprised when Arthur placed his hand on Merlin’s above the table for all present to see. “Just as any indiscretions between Merlin and I are punishable outside the confines of the Purple, understood?”

Merlin felt uncomfortable being publicly acknowledged as Arthur’s intended lover. Even though Lancelot, Gwen and Gawain were their closest friends and Gawain the naked swan clearly found nothing about a Purple party inappropriate, he knew Lancelot held very different ideas about what forms of behaviour between two men were acceptable.

Lancelot saw Merlin’s fright and Arthur’s disappointment as the warlock deliberately moved his hand away and placed it in his lap. Merlin must have misunderstood Lancelot’s meaning when he refused his subtle advances when the would-be knight first came to Camelot. He only meant that he personally didn’t find men appealing in such a manner, not that he found those attracted to other men unnatural.

“See Gwen, I told you they were married,” Lancelot quipped. Gwen laughed, Arthur’s lips quirked with supressed happiness, Merlin’s paling cheeks turned pink. “So Merlin, as the only person here who can fully empathise with my position, should I agree to this morally dubious plan as I am tempted to do?”

Gwen held her breath and crossed her fingers. If Merlin should say yes then Lancelot would say yes and Gwen could say yes. As intimidating as being Queen must be, to be Queen to a King such as Arthur promised to become and still maintain some small pocket of normalcy with Lancelot …

Merlin thought about Lancelot’s question from an unselfish perspective. No, he didn’t actually, but he tried! “Yes, yes you should.”

Gwen returned Arthur’s smile as his exhalation of relief coincided with hers. Only one barrier remained. Gwen watched the blond head turn to her other beloved, serious blue eyes showed no sign of accusation or threat.

“Lancelot?” Arthur asked simply.

Lancelot silently sought Gwen’s opinion. There was hope in her eyes, hope for a life of both love and duty. Mostly he saw love for him and hope he would understand why she could turn her back on neither. He did. Neither could he.

“Yes.”

Gwen threw her arms around Lancelot, Arthur shook his hand and Merlin smiled across the table. Together these four made Camelot a force to be reckoned with.

####  9.1

Sappho the poet was the first female literary artist of antiquity, Lesbian and Priestess of the Ancients. So great was the love for her partner, so potent her natural magic that Sappho caused a mountain to boil when her passion reached its climax. To prevent an uncontrolled release of such magnitude occurring again Sappho remained celibate until she developed a way to channel her power into a safe vessel, a pendant her lover wore around her neck.

Convincing Arthur to wear such a thing may prove as difficult as the enchantment but that did not concern Gaius. This was the spell Cornelius Sigan expanded to include his soul in the transfer. Had Merlin gained enough knowledge to safely perform such an undertaking without later being tempted to cross that same line?

####  9.2

Kerensa was even more unbearably pompous and self-righteous than Uther remembered. Her daughter was worse. Kerensa and Rioghnach were unexpectedly insulting toward Guinevere after having made such a fuss over demanding the blacksmith’s daughter attend to their family. Perhaps they had discovered Arthur’s plan to marry the common-born girl and understood any contrivances would come to nought.

Uther detested petty women. How could his beloved wife blossom from such a repugnant family tree?

“That boy of yours is rude…”

Uther let Kerensa prattle on while his mind played through memories of his courtship with Ygraine and the too few years of their marriage. If Rioghnach resembled her mother less and her mother’s cousin more Uther would have summoned his son immediately and arranged the marriage without waiting for Arthur’s opinion. To bind him to such a family of shrews…Camelot’s King physically shuddered at the thought with a grimace.

“Are you ill Your Majesty?” Drostan asked with attentive concern. At least one of the three noble guests possessed gentile manners!

“I believe I am. If you will excuse…”

Kerensa began to interrupt only to be beaten to it by her son. “Perhaps you should seek the court physician before seeking your bed Sire. There are many maladies abroad this season. Those that send a man to his bed tend to make the women folk waspish.”

Drostan politely indicated that he was aware his female relatives were the cause of the king’s complaint and that their behaviour was uncharacteristically harsh as a result of their long journey. He would make a fine courtier. Uther nodded gently to acknowledge the truth of the young man’s words.

“May the morrow find us all at our best,” Uther toasted his company and left the dining hall.

Drostan waited until the meal concluded and his ‘family’ adjourned to their allocated chambers before revealing his disapproval of their behaviour.

“This is why the two of you continually fail to rid Camelot of the Pendragon tyranny. Put all personal grudges aside and focus. Honestly I was embarrassed for you, watching the two most talented witches pecking like a pair of hens. Are your menstrual cycles interfering with your judgement?”

“How dare you!” Kerensa hooked a hand and an invisible ball of energy flew at Drostan’s face. He did not blink, gesture or make a sound, merely smiled at her as Rioghnach moved swiftly to stand in front of him. An owl flying past the window caught the blast intended for him and fell to its death.

“Sister, remember he’s only a child caught in a young man’s body.”

“Why do you continually side with an orphaned Druid boy over your flesh and blood?”

“This is why they defeat you. You use each other as readily as you use those who mean nothing to you and turn on each other at the drop of a word. Emrys and Pendragon work as an indivisible unit – so must we.” He gave them no further opportunity to argue. “Uther has excused your poor performances but I doubt he will do so tomorrow. Do not expect me to bed either of them should you fail to convince him you are all that is feminine, gentile and desirable _Mother_. As my _sister_ said, this form may be of an age to find such activity pleasing but I am not. _Sister_ ,” Drostan offered his arm and escorted Rioghnach to her room. He knew where Morgana’s loyalty lay and all because he asked two simple, boyish questions when he needed her help to dispose of Alvarr: how can I trust someone who treats me as nothing more than a tool? Don’t you want to be loved?

If only manipulating Emrys had been so easy, Morgana would already be Queen. Not the maniacal tyrant she became when Morgause set the plan but the noble, enviable and generous Queen she should have been.

Morgana could still be that Queen and when he came of age Mordred would be her King.

## 9.3

Merlin turned down Arthur’s bed in the usual manner.

Almost.

His hand may have lingered on the pillows while recently hatched memories capered through his thoughts. The images were so vivid, he could hear the sounds he and Arthur made together; so solid, he could feel the pillows pressing against his shoulder and face as he and Arthur woke up in one bodily mass; so true; so joyous.

…and so sad.

Their hours together in this bed had been brilliant; their love bright and unshielded; their union bold and unchecked. It had also been dangerous, and not only for them.

“No more,” he whispered as he finished adjusting the bedcovers. He wanted to be preparing this bed for the two of them, though not for more of the same activity. He only yearned to fall asleep with their limbs looped together as they drowsily murmur unimportant nonsense simply because they are reluctant to waste a moment in each other’s company.

Merlin sensed Arthur behind him, sensed his tension as he maintained the necessary multi-layered distance. They would be together again if – no, _when_ The Host of the Flock granted them Fidelity but it must always be without the passion.

“Perhaps I have been unfair in asking you to make this commitment,” Arthur murmured. “You should be sharing your love with someone who lets you be free. Already you live under too many restrictions, for me.”

Knowing Arthur was putting Merlin’s needs first by providing this opportunity to withdraw did not make hearing it hurt any less. Merlin slowly lowered his head in a single nod.

“This is where you’re supposed to say ‘No Arthur, we’ll get through this like we get through everything else. After enduring a major and possibly life threatening struggle, we’ll smile and laugh at the end’ and then try to kiss me goodnight. At which point _I_ say ‘stop getting fresh with me Merlin. Don’t forget to close that window on your way out’.”

Merlin couldn’t stop his lips quirking and his head turning slightly from side to side, more like a minute shiver than an actual shake, as he always did whenever Arthur said/did something heartfelt and amusing yet ridiculous, something so typically **Arthur**.

“See? Now call me some spontaneously invented, ludicrous yet nonetheless clearly insulting epithet and I can sleep knowing you love me, despite the fact that I am a selfish prat.”

Merlin chuckled and called him a seasoned goose. Not his best effort by any standard but enough to ease the strain in Arthur’s shoulders as they looked at each other. Both men clearly wanted Merlin to stay and knew crossing that boundary two nights in a row set a perilous precedent.

“So,” Merlin asked, unaware that he slightly lengthened the ‘o’, “when can we make this commitment, do you think?”

“We could know as early as nightfall tomorrow.”

Once more Merlin experienced the phenomenon of seeing Arthur’s unvoiced thought written in the air around him: _I can’t see how I can manage ruling this kingdom without you Merlin, in more than the political sense_.

Merlin thought it would be a grand feat indeed if Arthur could see his thoughts in turn: _Hopefully you won’t have to my destiny, my love._

## 9.4

Lancelot and Guinevere stood gazing out through her kitchen window. His arm fitted around her waist, her head angled comfortably to fit against his shoulder.

Together, the most wonderful word in any language.

####  9.5

Uther re-read the note left by his son in what used to be Ygraine’s favourite drawer of the King’s armoire. ‘It’s the perfect size to hide all my treasures in, apart from you and our children to come of course,’ she said with a smile as the new bride tipped out her husband’s belongings onto a chair. How Uther missed Ygraine’s smile!

Because he missed her smile, Uther took a peek in that drawer every night since her death. The things inside of it made her smile, and that was the closest he was going to get. That Arthur remembered after being told only once as a small boy provided bold evidence of another of Uther’s mistakes. He should have answered Arthur’s questions about his remarkable mother, spoken of Ygraine as often as he thought of her. Then Morgause would have had no hold over his son.

The multitude of Uther’s errors swarmed around him like red flies over a corpse as he read.

Everything Arthur suggested in this message was sensibly thought out. Uther frequently underestimated his heir’s good sense because it often remained so deeply hidden. That thought alone probably added a sinful fly or two to the swarm.

Arthur had handed his father a solution to the heir’s problems and an opportunity for the King to receive absolution. Permission to marry Guinevere could be granted easily enough and in the reply Uther penned, it would be. However the other matters required approval beyond a father’s, even though that father be the King. In the realm of the flocks The Host rule and Uther has only recently risen to his position among them.

Juniors did not know the identity of the Senior Host. Ivory could be male or female and he or she could be any noble.

Any!

####  9.6

The King’s response was prompt and efficient if deliberately ambiguous:

_You have your father’s blessing to marry your particular young lady._

_Finer details of further requests must be discussed before promises can be made._

_Know that you have my full support in all of these endeavours. It takes a strong mind to maintain a cool mind when one’s heart is heated._

_Ask the girl quickly so your betrothal may be announced before your relatives become unbearable._

Arthur suspected Guinevere may be celebrating with Lancelot in the same manner he preferred to be celebrating with Merlin. Confirmation of his father’s approval might have to wait until morning.

…Or he could order Leon to slide a note under Guinevere’s door.

“Guard, bring Sir Leon to me immediately.”

“Yes Sire.”

There was a time for patience and letting events happen in due course. Instinct told Arthur now was not that time.

## 9.7

Gaius explained the process to Merlin again.

Slowly

It was not that Merlin was naturally dense, mercy no. Merely distracted and, unfortunately for Gaius increasingly excited by the inherent prospect of future uninhabited fornication with his destiny. _Oh dear._

“You must be extremely careful Merlin and concentrate.” How many times had _that_ phrase been spoken since the boy arrived in Camelot? “This is not a spell you can practice in safety before performing the real enchantment. A single misspoken word, one inaccurately accented syllable and the wrong pieces of you will become trapped in the chosen artefact and lost for eternity!”

“As long as one of them isn’t my willy,” Merlin muttered cheekily and Gaius hit his shoulder with a book.

“Recite the process.”

Merlin inhaled deeply, turned his face to the ceiling, closed his eyes to picture himself performing the necessary procedure in his mind, and began talking through each step.

####  9.8

Ivory perused an unexpected message over breakfast. It seemed the years-long game of chess being played between present and future kings of Camelot would come to an end over three pieces who began the game as nothing more than pawns.

Lancelot had already reached the opposing end of the board and become Arthur’s Knight, now young Pendragon sought to make Guinevere and Merlin dual Queens.

The son held the father in check.

Ivory and The Host would decide Uther’s next move.

####  9.9

Merlin fidgeted in his plum velvet and crescent moon mask as his screening process began.

Arthur’s official engagement to Gwen had been announced as the first item at court that morning, followed by a cancellation of all other items, an impromptu family-only celebration allowing the Pendragons and Gwen to foil any marital union Kerensa may have planned for the cousins, and then an odd message arrived.

Uther, Arthur, Sir Leon and Merlin had been summoned to some room in the castle Merlin had never been in before. An androgynous figure whose garments made Merlin think of yellowed bone waited in the centre of the room. The Host’s voice was distorted by a full face mask. The reverberations suggested it was made of painted ceramic. As with Uther’s mask, the holes allowing the wearer to see and breathe were covered with mesh that observers could not see through. The two potential partners were commanded to travel to this address with their opposite’s sponsor and assume their theme before entering this room. Merlin was surprised to discover Leon had been the one to introduce Arthur to the flock, though not as surprised as Leon at learning the identity of Merlin’s benefactor. The knights eyes remained as round as eggs beneath his pheasant mask.

“Is all this really necessary?” Merlin asked Pheasant. They were seated on one side of a room with Arthur and Uther on the opposite side with The Host at a table somewhere between. Arthur and Merlin were not permitted to face each other so neither could provide subtle clues to the other on how to pass each evaluation. Pheasant’s attitude helped increase Midnight’s unease.

“If you don’t believe he’s worth it I will quite happily take your place. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it over the years.”

“What?” Merlin asked, hoping this was only a silly test.

“As Noon’s sponsor I may deem you unworthy and claim him as my complement. As Mahogany may do for…”

“No thank you!” Merlin shook his head.

“That is why I stand at your side and not Noon’s. If The Host deny his request they will ask if I am willing…”

“Are you?” Merlin asked jealously. Pheasant gave him a blank look then continued talking as if there had been no interruption.

“…and should I accept, they will ask Noon if the substitution is satisfactory.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? What if he says no?”

“No to me, or to you?”

“Why would he say no to me, he brought me here – do you think he _will_ say no to me?”

Pheasant paused and exhaled with a baritone sigh. “No Midnight. I honestly do not think Noon would _ever_ say no to you.”

“He says no to me all the time!”

“And then he does exactly what you intend for him to do.” Which is why Pheasant only got as far as thinking about complementing Noon; as soon as Merlin arrived in Camelot, where went one the other followed just as soon as he was able. _Even before Merlin first saved Arthur’s life, yet to this day they remain completely unaware of it_.

It was phenomenal, like lightning: Beautiful, implacable – and terrifyingly lethal.

####  9.10

The Host did not speak during a screening lest their opinions be overheard and manipulated by the potential partners, communicating instead through chalk on painted wood with each message wiped clean immediately after being read.

Five Hosts wrote the same four words at precisely the same time: _Can you FEEL it?_

Ivory nodded and the identical questions were erased simultaneously.

Feel it? Ivory could see it. The complementary Host masks Ebony made before the Great Purge revealed the secret hearts of others while keeping theirs hidden, making them perfect leaders of the promiscuous flocks. No pairing had ended in disgrace or violence under their care. It was always immediately clear whether a match would endure or fail but they must follow the established traditions to avoid suspicions of sorcery. Ebony and Ivory never influenced the sentiments they discovered, merely read and based their verdicts on this hidden evidence. But others would not believe that, particularly those most fickle lovers declined fidelity. So Ebony and Ivory resorted to logic if The Host needed persuading to make the correct decision.

The emotional connection between Noon and Midnight pulsed around them in coruscating aura of multiple colour, like two spinning wheels joined by a single thread of light. This thread consistently moved in both directions in perfect balance. Neither held the upper hand. Ivory had never seen such equilibrium. Negative emotions as well as positive were shared: underlying fear and resentment, so faint; scorching but tightly controlled passion; the all-encompassing nimbus of deep friendship; admiration, respect, anger and more – all in the same ratio.

Reaching a verdict in this instance should be easy – yes. Ivory could not in good conscience vote yes. Noon and Midnight were perfectly suited but for one thing. One thing that Ivory could not use to persuade The Host to make the correct decision, the humane decision, and offer Pheasant as Noon’s complement instead.

How, without sorcery, could Ivory prove that Midnight, an ordinary servant known as Merlin, was immortal?

####  9.11

Arthur remained silent unless directly questioned by The Host, his thoughts on Merlin and how easily the idiot became worried or afraid. Merlin was a fretful soul, his heritage made that understandable and his greatest fear was of the unknown.

_Sorry Merlin. I thought we’d have time to explain this to you._

Strange how since they came together he seemed able to hear replies to similar thoughts, not precisely hear: sense, feel, something.

_So Pheasant’s just being an ass? They won’t really pair you off with him instead if he says I’m not good enough?_

Well, that’s enough of the thought sharing. Time to think about… cows, cows should be safe.

_Dollop head!_

_Love you too Merlin._

####  9.12

The Host known as Garnet stood to address the sponsors.

“Pheasant, benefactor of the flock member known by the title Noon, do you find this starling known as Midnight a worthy companion to your favourite?”

Leon was hoping they’d changed the wording since he declined to be bonded years ago in order to introduce Arthur to the pleasures of the Purple. Couldn’t The Host pool their intelligence and find a word that did not evoke childhood memories of parental remonstrance? _I know this particular plaything/food is your favourite but you have to share…_

“Indeed. Midnight seeks a constant attachment and offers the strength of his devotion unto my…favourite.”

Arthur found the term as awkward as Leon did. ‘Am I your favourite?’ he cheekily asked once his Purple membership was approved and they were busy making use of it. ‘Ask again later, should you doubt it,’ was Leon’s reply. Arthur never did.

“Mahogany, member of The Host, he who sought to invite the guest known as Midnight into our flock, do you find this member of the flock known as Noon a worthy companion to your potential starling?”

“Indeed.”

Merlin thought it a tad unfair that Leon had to voice Merlin’s intent as though he were the supplicant party.

Garnet sat and Ivory stood. “Stand Noon and remove your false visage. Face the one you have chosen.”

Leon placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and murmured for him to remain facing the wall. The official consent between interested parties must be sought according to the rules.

“State your name, your paternal lineage and your intent.” Ivory commanded and Merlin shifted in his seat, startled.

_It’s like a proper betrothal!_

“I, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon of Camelot state my intent to provide a worthy complement to the starling known as Midnight. Under the rules of the Purple I shall let no harm befall you within flock boundaries; I will not reveal your identity nor consummate our partnership outside select and approved boundaries; I will not seek the attentions of another member of the flock without your permission; I will not deny you the right to seek pleasure from another member of the flock should I be unable to fulfil that need; I will not forbid you from forming a socially acceptable relationship, separate and binding, away from the Purple. I understand the gravity of these promises – Midnight, will you accept me?”

“Not yet,” Leon murmured in Merlin’s ear. He knew the wait was torturous for both parties but failure to follow protocol meant instant rejection by The Host. “Say ‘yes’ to accept or ‘no’ to decline, and nothing more unless instructed.” As if Merlin would say no. Whenever he did say no to Arthur he eventually did whatever Arthur intended him to do anyway. They were as similar yet different as a reflected image to its source.

“Noon, you will remain standing and face your chosen,” Ivory commanded. “Remain masked Midnight as you stand to face the one who chooses you. Do you accept him?”

“Yes.”

“Midnight, remove your false visage and stand face to face with the one you have chosen to accept.”

Arthur and Merlin swam through the blue depths of each other’s eyes. _I love you_ they thought together and smiled because their partner heard, sensed, felt it. Merlin found it difficult to remain silent but Leon had repeatedly whispered the need for not speaking out of turn during the screening.

“Midnight, state your name, your paternal lineage and your intent.”

_Arthur I can’t._

_Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can._

_My father…_

“State your name…!” Ivory’s voice cracked through the clay mask, revealing Ivory to be a man. Merlin began before he finished the command.

“I Merlin, state my intent to provide a, a worthy complement to you, Arthur Pendragon. I promise to do all those things you said too…”

“Begin again and state your paternal lineage Merlin, or do you not know who your father is?” His hesitancy and seemingly accidental omission suggested to Ivory that Merlin knew what he was, that despite his earnest love for the man in front of him they should not be united in this manner. “Begin!”

“I Merlin, son of Balinor…”

“What?” Arthur asked and heard, felt, saw Merlin’s agonised reply: _You didn’t tell me about this! Arthur, there’s still so much I haven’t told you._

“Not possible!” Uther exclaimed.

Ivory knew Balinor, had helped Gaius smuggle him out of Camelot and falsified records to keep him hidden from Uther’s purge. As long as one dragon lived Balinor’s line must survive.

“Dragon Lord!” several of those gathered exclaimed, but Merlin was already running.  
  
Arthur did not hesitate to run after him.  
  


####  10.1

Leon followed immediately after Arthur. _Dragon Lord_. Though Leon had been a young boy when Uther captured what he claimed to be the last dragon, he remembered Balinor. He remembered both the man and the tales children of Camelot heard growing up. As a loyal knight, Sir Leon ensured associated rumour and gossip never reached the King’s ear after they faced the dragon outside the city walls.

If the Dragon Lord Balinor was dead Arthur could not have slain the beast, unless _he_ … there had been suggestions after that incident that perhaps the ability could also be passed through the mother’s line, not only the father’s as generally believed. None had thought to suspect Merlin. His presence was shrugged off with what had become a familiar adage among the populace: where goes one, the other soon follows.

If the dragon was dead, what became of its carcass?

If it remained alive, or there were others… Merlin must be protected from the King.

He was a fleet fellow but Arthur soon caught up to him and confronted him as a strange, dark swell began at the Dragon Lord’s feet.

“Don’t run off without explaining anything!” Arthur demanded in his usual irritable tone and Merlin smiled before tendrils of darkness reached his face.

He reached out a smoky hand. “Come on then.”

Arthur promptly took the seemingly insubstantial hand in his and the swirling mass spread to encompass him then slowed.

“I can’t take you with me if you fight it you clot pole!”

“Pheasant, to me!” Arthur stretched out a solid hand and as soon as Leon grasped it they were gone.

####  10.2

“I suppose you have a reason for bringing him along.” Merlin pointed in the direction of the knight pacing the border of their temporary camp. His gesture and voice were sharpened by accusation.

This was a side to Merlin that came forward more often as their friendship matured. Bossy…

“No Merlin I don’t. I have a catalogue of reasons starting with providing a witness that although you may be of Dragon Lord get you are not about to kill me, an extra set of eyes and ears for sentry, I trust him…”

“Dragon Lord get? Am I human Arthur?”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Yes Merlin, you’re human. I’ve seen you cry over a father you knew for less than a week, risk your life for your mother, you can’t get more human than that.”

Merlin needed further reassurance but was reluctant to seek it, even with the artefact hidden beneath his shirt. His need rapidly devoured his hesitancy. He tried once more to send Arthur and Leon back to Camelot before the need became all he could see.

“You need to go back. Gwen…”

“At this moment I’m needed here more than there. Besides, I’ll be completely useless to Camelot if my thoughts keep wandering to what idiocy my useless servant has gotten tangled up in.”

Merlin’s hands were suddenly on him, followed by his mouth. Arthur saw no point in resisting. He didn’t precisely succumb to Merlin’s advances, he retaliated.

“Are we breaking any rules?” Merlin asked as they began removing boots.

“I’m not married yet, no verdict has been given, we’re goodness knows where, so no. Hurry up.”

“Not yet,” Merlin turned away.

“What?! You started it!” Arthur brought him close again and sought another passionate kiss.

“I have something to give you.”

“I can feel that…”

Merlin’s spine curved back as Arthur pressed against his erection with a possessive hand. Arthur practically pounced at Merlin’s throat, his lips imitating the jaws of a lion and leaving him breathless. _I want you Merlin, I need you, I can prove you’re as human as I am._

“Am I Arthur, am I truly?” Merlin performed a simple spell that needed no gesture or recitation; trivial enough not to damage the natural order while letting Arthur see the magical fire burning behind his eyes.

“A man who can perform magic is still a man.”

“What if I can cast my magical nature aside and pick it up again?”

“It would be like me picking up and putting down my sword.”

“Stubborn.”

“No, determined.”

“Will you wear something for me?”

“Can’t we just get on with it and save dressing up for another time?” Arthur moved his mouth away from Merlin’s and down the side of his neck as he unfastened Merlin’s shirt. “How long have you been wearing this?” He leaned back to look at the curved crystal, smoothly shaped like a talon but rounded rather than sharp.

“It’s for you. If I do it right I can pool the dangerous side of me into that while we, do this,” he explained in broken breaths as he pressed forward so Arthur’s back was flat on the grass, then moved on top of him as a rehearsal of how he planned moving inside him. “When we’re done, or in danger it flows back by itself. But you have to agree to wear it as part of the enchantment. Will you wear it?”

“What happens if something goes wrong?”

“I only have to perform this once unless you take it off. I have no intention of getting it wrong.”

“Mer _lin_.”

“The longer you make me wait the harder it gets for me to concentrate.”

Arthur had the strangely attractive object off Merlin’s neck and around his before Merlin finished speaking. Despite its complexity the final stage was over quickly. Merlin had no sleep the past night while he learned and prepared. If he’d been more alert he would have dealt with The Host situation more suitably.

Arthur saw the golden fire gradually leave Merlin’s eyes as the crystal felt increasingly warmer on his chest. It didn’t burn, but when he looked he saw that golden sheen of magic glittering within the curved shape. “Are you still, you?” If giving up his magic made Merlin someone else, Arthur was taking this off and never putting it on again.

“If a man who can perform magic is still a man, can he remain the same man if he can no longer perform magic?”

“You still rabbit on the same.”

“And I still think you’re a dollop head.”

####  10.3

The Merlin who was not a Dragon Lord kissed the same way as magical Merlin. He smiled the same, sounded the same, smelled the same, tasted the same and felt the same. His tongue tickled against Arthur’s skin like before, teased Arthur erect and licked him open in the same way. His fingers sent the same thrills rippling through Arthur’s body, with every touch resonating in his bones.

This Merlin pushed and pulled inside him with the same fluid motion, watching Arthur’s expressions and listening to the sounds he made and going faster, slower, deeper, shallower, or maintaining a steady pattern of movement accordingly.

He made the same sounds of pleasure and encouragement. His lips had that same quirk, his eyes that same non-magical spark.

He was still Merlin.

“Keep going,” Arthur insisted between grunts and long, low moans of satisfaction. “Don’t stop.”

Merlin slid his knees under Arthur’s back, tilting his well-pounded arse to the sky, slid his elbows beneath Arthur’s shoulders, rested his head on the earth next to Arthur’s and went at him with the rapid-fire movements of a rabbit.

Arthur could feel every hair on Merlin’s chest pressing into the back of his legs as their bodies juddered in response to Merlin’s actions. The things Merlin muttered into his ear made him more aware of precisely how their bodies were connected and he came. Merlin jittered inside of him directly.

As the last of Merlin’s cum left him, the crystal relinquished its own load. Merlin’s shuddering gasp as his power returned to him caused a very pleasant sensation indeed.

The only way that pendant was leaving Arthur’s neck was over his cold, dead body!

####  10.4

It worked. Merlin could feel the difference right away.

His emotions were the same, and his thoughts. Arthur’s effect on him remained completely unchanged. The only difference had been that lack of fierce energy sparking across every fibre of Merlin’s being. The sexual energy that existed between them remained extraordinary but now Merlin knew with absolute certainty that it was natural, human – _real_.

With the enchanted pendant pressed between his skin and Arthur’s he could still recognise Arthur’s thoughts. Arthur continued to love and desire him. Most importantly he did not trust him any more or less than the day before.

As an added bonus, the way Merlin reacted to the return of his power did wonderful things to Arthur when their bodies were joined.

After a few moments’ kissing with victorious smiles and gentle, verbal reassurances a voice called out from a discreet distance.

“Are you done yet? I always said Merlin would be a firecracker, but never suspected he’d have the stamina of an ox. I will be terribly offended should I not receive an invite to any group games, and you already know Gwaine wants a turn.”

“Did you _really_ have to bring Leon along?” Arthur asked as if it was entirely Merlin’s idea.

Merlin rubbed dirt in his pratful face before locating his clothes.

####  10.5

Uther fumed behind his mask as Merlin’s true identity was revealed: son of the Dragon Lord Balinor. If the boy inherited the family gift at Balinor’s death …the timing.

Arthur’s reaction to Merlin’s admission was one of astonishment more than shock. So many ill-fitting pieces turned and locked together: the look they exchanged before Merlin fled; their mysterious bond; Arthur’s behaviour at the Purple upon seeing Merlin claimed by another benefactor, loitering outside the door and his muddled expression, his ire at discovering his father extended the invitation, this rush to ensure the fidelity of his pet.

Arthur did not know Merlin’s lineage, but clearly recognised the potential for power he possessed all along and kept him close.

Treason!

####  10.6

Only once before had Ivory seen the King of Camelot adopt such a rigidly angry and hate-filled stance. That date was recorded in the annals as the beginning of the Great Purge.

Camelot stood poised on the cusp of another purge, one that would set father against son on the battlefield.

_I must warn Gaius_.

Heirs of both earthly and ethereal power must survive the wrath of the King if Camelot were to endure.

####  10.7

“You are sure?” Gaius asked in the tone set aside for pronouncing the direst of prognoses.

“My own eyes and ears did witness,” Sir Geoffrey attested. “The boy humbly admitted he is the son of Balinor. Do not lie to me Gaius. We both know what Ebony’s mask allows me to see. Her gift revealed his long before his words.”

The nobleman assumed his courtly posture to suppress his agitation. He thought the retired sorcerer might be a bit more visibly disquieted under the circumstances. Perhaps a long-standing conspiracy had corrupted Uther’s heir.

“Where did they go?” Gaius asked.

“The three of them are much fitter and faster…”

“ _Three?_ ”

“Sir Leon followed the Prince’s pursuit of the Dragon Lord.”

“Then hope is not lost. At least now we know they have one steady brain to speak reason amid this chaos.”

“You seem to be taking this rather calmly!” Sir Geoffrey’s accusation stank of treasonous allegation.

“Let me assure you Geoffrey, that I am not. None of us yet know what Merlin is truly capable of, least of all Merlin! We must trust that the discipline and sense of duty toward Camelot ingrained in Prince Arthur and Sir Leon will be enough to prevent him doing anything rash. This is what comes of Uther and his manipulative games!”

Gaius needed to sit but refused to show any sign of weakness in front of a friend who could so easily become an enemy. Geoffrey proved the depth of his friendship with a quiet admission.

“This doom rumoured to have been spoken over Ygraine’s pregnancy, Gaius I hear it everywhere since the morning that followed that longest night. I catch myself thinking and saying it myself.”

“As do I. Uther brought together two forces that were not ready to be united and now they rush to the point of no return. The consequences… their future could become a fixed juncture in time before it happens!”

“What of Uther?” Geoffrey found it easier to deal in the mundane world. Let Gaius fret about that other nonsense. This was how they survived the Great Purge with some degree of sanity.

“I fear…”

“The King is mad.” Geoffrey stated simply.

Gaius knew his friend did not refer to Uther’s emotional state.

“Then it is time to support his heir.”

####  10.8

Two of the King’s guard forced Gwen to her knees. One grabbed her curls in case she dared look away from the King ragingly insanely in front of her, as if Gwen were a timid child too afraid to look him in the eye of her own accord. How little these men knew of her.

“Where is he?” Uther roared a mere moment after Gwen failed to answer the first time. His behaviour has always been unpredictable. His current actions were further proof that Arthur was the ruler Camelot needed.

“Perhaps if you told me who you were looking for,” Gwen calmly kept the ferocity of her anger from her voice by remembering how many depended upon her welfare. The sting of a leather-gloved hand angled her head to the side, causing the hand grasping her hair to pull.

“Shackle her ankles. Find her lover, the favoured Lancelot. Perhaps then the servant girl who would be queen will direct me to my son.”

Arthur had foolishly revealed the names of his main conspirators in one document. Sir Leon’s betrayal was only in part a surprise. Clearly the knight felt a greater loyalty to cock than Crown. As a boy the young prince had unwittingly displayed his affection for the older knight by heeding him as a dog observes its master. When Arthur imprudently made his intentions known at the age of fourteen Sir Leon merely laughed at him. Yet in preparation for Arthur’s coming of age the pleasant Pheasant had invited him directly to a Purple, physically placed the card in the prince’s hand after a training session. He had been on the brink of entering a pact of fidelity when the invitation had been accepted, and Flame had chosen to accept his sponsor in Pheasant’s place. Both Pheasant and Noon enjoyed a range of playmates through the intervening years but neither completely lost interest in the other.

Uther understood the myriad ways sex distorted one’s perception. The events leading to Morgana’s conception plus those surrounding his recent weakness for Merlin provided perfect examples. He had maintained this kingdom with the might of his sword and the fealty of noblemen. He would not allow his son to subvert his efforts through pillow talk of revolution after bedding a string of commoners and at least one sworn enemy of the crown.

How many?

How many in the King’s service had been seduced into following the heir who sank so low as to use sortilege against their sovereign?

####  10.9

Rumour reached Lancelot before the guards.

He made no effort to hide and concealed no weapons about his person. Lancelot strode casually forward and lifted his hands in surrender with a friendly smile.

“I intend to come quietly. See?”

The guards hesitated, anticipating an ambush or some other form of trick.

“Come now, do you really expect me to involve innocent bystanders and raise a fuss when a single conversation can put this ugly talk of impending patricide to rest?” Lancelot held his wrists together and perpendicular from his body. “You may bind my wrists as proof of my compliance. I promise I won’t enjoy it.” He wasn’t Gwaine.

Lancelot continued not to struggle. He did not know the truths behind this latest state of anarchy but he knew he would need to conserve his strength in order to be of any use to the future rulers of Camelot. He knew Arthur and he knew Merlin. He knew they would not let others suffer on their behalf. He knew he had no need to worry over his lack of armour and weaponry. Once Prince and warlock arrived he would have both.

####  10.10

Uther was quite prepared to run his sword through the viper Kerensa where she stood. It rested in his hand unsheathed. His fingers assumed the grip required to deliver a killing stroke. Her words saved her.

“My army is at your immediate disposal. A treasonous child shall ever be a threat.”

“Your allegiance is unexpected my Lady. Your alliance is accepted.”

The Lady and her children curtseyed and bowed as the King’s man passed.

Drostan praised his _mother_ ’s use of the sudden turmoil bubbling through Camelot. Events seen through his _sister_ ’s most recent vision may come to pass within the current week.

####  11.1

Assume the worst then prepare to face it.

That is what the disappearing Prince, Dragon Lord and Knight did. Days and nights were spent strategizing, pooling resources and snooping about. Pockets of support were found in some astonishing places, but no ally more astounding than the Great Dragon.

Arthur resisted the urge to exclaim ‘It talks!’ and forced himself to address the creature as though he conversed with a distinguished military leader, who happened to be in a position to swallow him whole – and not in the pleasant way to which the he was accustomed.

“Oh, and Merlin,” he added after the oddest of awkward conversations came to an end.

“Mm?”

“Make sure he refrains from eating my people, even those who raise arms against us. If he gets hungry he can chomp on a horse.”

“Just not your horse.”

“Correct.” Arthur showed his approval of Merlin’s thinking by clasping his shoulder, granting a fleeting nod with an equally brief grin – and a wink.

####  11.2

Sir Leon knew which families listened to the old tales and continued telling them down the generations. It seemed someone had beaten him to the first part of his role in Arthur’s scheme – ensure these tales remained fresh in the minds of the citizenry – leaving him free to concentrate on Merlin’s scheme, one Arthur must not yet know about. Leon need only murmur a few words at this well, whisper a phrase in a corner of that stable, be caught stealing fruit from a particular orchard then chat with the farmer or his sons and the message would spread faster than a summer brush fire.

Those too young to live through the Great Purge took delight in hearing the fantastic stories of men who commanded dragons with words alone were true. Those old enough to clearly remember the times before wept shameless tears of hope. No more neighbours accusing others of sorcery over minor disagreements or selling rivals to witchfinders or bounty hunters. Womenfolk would once again gather herbs and bulbs for the stew pot without an ignorant finger proclaiming WITCH! Children could have their sores healed by simple and inexpensive home remedies before they began to ooze. No more needlessly expensive potions and lotions from those granted physician status by the crown and able to set whatever price they chose.

A new story began circulating, telling of a rightful king able to remove a sword buried in stone. Many prayers ended with the phrases: may the dragon yet live and eat the false king.

Leon knew Arthur had no need for these citizens to raise their arms in insurrection. True victory would be awarded to the man who earned their hearts.

####  11.3

Lancelot and Guinevere were kept in the same dungeon cell. There were no windows. A series of slits between stones allowed the stink of the prisoners to waft out to the plain dirt path above.

The prisoners were chained to opposite corners. Stretching to the very limit of their bonds left a finger span between them. Both were gagged, only Gwen blindfolded. They were fed one after the other. Before removing the gag to feed one prisoner three guards, always three, placed a heavy metal arc atop their cellmate’s head. Strange, spongelike material attached to the band plugged the wearer’s ears. The gag was replaced immediately after eating and then the band was removed.

Unable to comfort Gwen with something so simple as a glance caused Lancelot pain. Only two things kept him strong: her lack of weeping and the occasional whispers from common folk through the ventilation gaps.

_You are not forgotten_

_The True King comes_

_They are unharmed_

_Where travels one the other follows_

_We will hide them_

_You will be queen_

_A new age begins_

Then a different voice, bearing the unmistakeable accent of a superior nobleman:

_Be ready_

Lancelot saw Gwen’s posture briefly resume her familiar dignity before once again slumping into defeat. He smiled uncomfortably through his gag. Now he knew the lowering of head and shoulders to be an act.

Uther had not broken her.

####  11.4

Morgause tired of this disguise. Kerensa’s proportions and attire were inadequate for this new situation but appearing beside Uther dressed ready for war would reveal her for the enemy she was. Her army waited in forests and caves beyond Camelot’s borders. Uther was now so addled he did not notice that they kept adding to his numbers, some scattered among and others far behind his own warriors. She would have laughed at the demented king’s claims that the servant Merlin was a Dragon Lord if not the ghost of suspicion that haunted her thoughts. Yet something deeper insisted any ability Merlin possessed certainly fell short in comparison to the most ancient of ancients.

Mordred knew Morgause could not identify the source of these assurances. He kept Emrys shielded from this witch because Morgana had seen:

_Avalon and Camelot, Camelot and Avalon, united become Albion. No other coin shall purchase such glory. Where one doth go the other must travel for they are the two sides and cannot be sundered._

The Dragon shall eat.

Only once Albion was unified could Emrys and Pendragon be defeated, but there was more. Morgana held many details close to her chest because their reactions to certain events must be unrehearsed if they were to survive.

Morgause and Uther laughed when the son arrived to confront the father. Apart from one knight wearing the Pendragon tabard, Arthur was alone.

Mordred hid his smile. The younger Pendragon had never been truly alone.

####  11.5

“Return to your homes,” Arthur instructed common and noble folk alike who assisted him or offered to fight beside him. “I give this order not as a prince or a possible future king, but as a knight of this realm. By the oath undertaken when I accepted this knighthood my first duty is to protect Camelot. I cannot fulfil this duty if you stand beside me because **you** are Camelot. Return to your homes and tell stories of the Dragon Lord who will fight for you this day. His name – is Merlin!”

####  11.6

“Have you forgotten someone, or did your unnatural lover abandon you?” Uther called across the vast clearing as his son steadily approached the city’s walls. Clouds speckled the sky in constant motion high above but below the tree line the air was still. It carried the question without distortion to his disgraced heir as well as those assembled behind the larger royal party.

Arthur remained grimly silent. Leon answered on his behalf. “The one we pursued escaped by means of a travelling spell, leaving no trace to follow.”

“Has the prince lost his wits?” Lady Kerensa asked in a volume that also ensured every man heard.

“No, only my father.” Arthur’s double meaning was not lost. Uther drew his sword.

“You will kneel and submit.”

“I will gladly kneel and submit, but to my father, not this madman who wears his face.”

An involuntary chorus of disbelief rippled through the combined army and the shadow of a cloud larger than the others passed over them. Mordred and Morgana kept the truth of that shadow from Uther, Morgause and warriors with a simple flow of whispering thought: clouds, clouds, clouds… Magic did not have to be dramatically visible to be effective.

Morgause thought she was so strong but her ever increasing arrogance weakened her ability to wield magic as well as accurately sense the level of power in others. This is why Emrys possessed the most potent talent in history and none of those gathered here could defeat him – humility. He would know now who wore these faces. He would know they worked against Morgause in support of Albion’s rightful king. And he would spare them.

####  11.7

In the manner typical of an overly pampered female, Lady Kerensa became fixated with removing some spoilage from her sleeve. In fact she performed an incantation. The ensorcelled lint she so carelessly flicked onto the King’s wrist goaded him into leading the charge.

“Kill the traitor!”

The warriors around them leapt to obey.

####  11.8

Members of the peasantry made their way into the castle through servants’ entrances in dribs and drabs throughout the day. They were led to empty and little used rooms where they smiled in silent greeting to those already inside. No-one spoke. Voices remained unused as flairs hissed into noisy life in the courtyard. Pockets of Camelot’s least extraordinary population left their temporary dens and without fuss made their way to the dungeons. They bore no weapons, wore no amulets. They acted neither under duress nor enchantment.

They had one role to perform and one rule to obey: free the future queen and her companion Lancelot; no deaths.

####  11.9

“Hold steady,” Arthur murmured to Sir Leon.

“I trust you my Lord.”

There was no need to clarify that ‘you’ included Merlin as well.

####  11.10

The charge began.

The two stood still. They did not retreat nor run forward.

Before the gap between father and son became too small, the dragon landed…

####  11.11

By sheer numbers they overwhelmed the dungeon guard. There were injuries to both sides but nothing that wouldn’t mend. The rabble moved swiftly and quietly to subdue those who enforced the imprisonment of those nearest and dearest to their Prince. Hence Lancelot and Gwen were released. Their guards reluctantly took up residence in their cell with wrists bound by ropes that moments ago held up a man’s trousers, or tied back a woman’s hair.

The former prisoners were easily concealed among the jolly crowd that left the castle as if they returned from harvest festival rather than a minor revolution. Then Gwen and her companion were taken to separate houses, fed and given the opportunity to wash in relative privacy.

“Now what do we do?” Gwen asked her courageous hosts, dimples showing her joy at being free and amusement at this most unusual mode of rescue.

“Now we wait for the physician and the librarian to bring news my Lady,” the woman of the household replied, entirely pleased with her guest and her family’s role in current events. “And while we wait, we tell you some stories…”

####  11.12

“Retreat!” Morgause was too used to command to bother continuing with this charade. Her familiar army obeyed but Uther’s continued on the path of attack with their lunatic king. That fool would get them all killed! The other dragons Uther had defeated were younger, less intelligent and commanded by Dragon Lords under his control. Not so this one.

The lady called upon the forces of the Old Religion and the king’s horse fell. As mount and rider fell, the king’s sword arm bent at the elbow, the horse rolled over the top of him and his head rolled free, severed by his own hand.

“The King is dead! Retree-eat!” she commanded again, not realising until she heard her true voice that Morgana and Mordred revoked their disguising charms in the instant Uther died.

Arthur’s voice carried calmly beneath the clatter of men running in fear. “Her, your friend can eat.”

The dragon laughed, and then he did.

####  11.13

Kilgarrah did not kill once he and Merlin took to the field, apart from snacking on Morgause. These would become Arthur’s people, ruled by mercy instead of fear and by heart instead of sword. So at Merlin’s command he did not kill, merely merged his knowledge with the Dragon Lord’s power to alter perceptions. Those who would accept the new regime and abide by its laws felt as though they had been walking with a veil over their eyes which had suddenly fallen away. Those that wished to continue to torture and slaughter, who carried out such orders as sport rather than from a sense of performing their moral duty became dust, then less than dust as their physical forms disintegrated into particles ready to be reassembled by nature. Some would eventually become the leaves of trees, pond algae, stones, snow, clouds, turnip seeds, tadpoles, stars, planets, possibly even men.

But the combined talents of Dragon Lord and Great Dragon did not kill them.

Their conscience did.

####  11.14

Arthur did not let the sounds of dragon teeth crunching against Morgause bones distract him from the sight of Merlin embracing his birth right. He shone. He shone with the power of creation and destruction. Everything he passed revealed its innate beauty to all who cared to see. The most miraculous aspect of all – within all that beat the heart of a man who appreciated simple things like family, friends, unicorns, hugs, wildflowers, food that in no way involved rodent meat.

_I love you Merlin_

Merlin turned to smile at him across a field of miracles.

_I know_

####  11.15

“Why did you turn against Morgause?” Arthur asked Morgana as she knelt in front of the throne. Arthur did not sit. He stood with Guinevere at one side and Merlin at the other. Lancelot stood as first attendant to the future queen and Sir Leon as first attendant to whatever official title Arthur would be able to foist onto Merlin once he had the time.

“How can I trust someone who treats me as nothing more than a tool?” Morgana responded in her familiar wounded yet insulting tone. “My father denied me, my brother did not know me for who I am, Morgause claimed me as kin. Do you know how powerful a magic that is?” Her green eyes took in her brother’s immediate companions. “Perhaps you do. When she threatened my brother…” Morgana’s anger was entirely genuine. The spell that changed so many had spared her because she no longer wished any of those before her dead. “I, Morgana Le Fey swear fealty unto you my brother, Arthur Pendragon for the length of that reign, even beyond death.”

Arthur turned only his eyes to Merlin who blinked slowly, once. Mordred could not hear their thoughts, as though both minds were blank.

“You fealty is most treasured Morgana, as is your kinship. Welcome home sister.”

Morgana did the most unexpected thing. She lifted her skirts and ran up the few stairs to embrace her brother.

“Um, there, there,” the king muttered as he patted her back awkwardly and the others hid chortles behind their hands.

Mordred smiled, a genuine smile, for he no longer had to hide his affection for her. The time for secrecy and plotting had come to an end. Morgana had shared with him the truth of her visions while Dragon Lord and True King were preoccupied with the dragon:

_There is a pendant the True King of Albion wears about his neck at all times. Through no fault but the Dragon Lord’s will it be removed. When it is restored to its proper place, the Dragon Lord will mispronounce one sound and become trapped within the crystal cave. The Queen will be turned away by the King’s guilt-laden grief. Then during a great battle threatening the security of Avalon the Dragon Lord will be freed in time to see what his complement has become in the intervening years, and declare it time for him to die. The Knight Mordred shall slay him and the sister Morgana shall carry him home to Avalon while Emrys grieves. Thus begins the second age of Albion…_

####  11.16

Merlin, Lancelot, Gwen, Leon, Arthur and Gaius were instructed to meet with Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth in his private house. Gaius knew the librarian had a home separate to his residential chambers adjacent to the Royal library, and that he ceased living in the house after the Great Purge took his wife. Their adult son died protecting his mother and Sir Geoffrey learned to keep his eyes at an angle and his mouth closed.

“Now at last, the purge truly has come to an end my friend,” he told Gaius as he added that day’s date to the end of the chronicle and sealed the hefty volume. It was the last in a collection so numerous it filled one wall of his dead heir’s room. He looked to the quartet sitting patiently. His son had been about their age and willing to sacrifice his life for his mother. “These tales of a sword sheathed in stone, I have never heard them before.”

“Truly Sir Geoffrey? How odd,” Sir Leon replied as though he’d heard them all his life rather than days ago. He and Merlin very deliberately did not look at each other.

Arthur immediately became suspicious. “Nor have I. Perhaps they originated among the peasantry and spread to the nobility during this latest turmoil,” he suggested to the historian.

“Perhaps…”

“To prevent further revolt I am willing to assume my father’s throne as regent until this sword and the fellow destined to wield it make an appearance. What form of title and privilege would that grant Guinevere?”

“I have seen this sword,” Lancelot interrupted, “its blade is inserted deep into a stone whose surface shows no visible crack.”

Arthur declared his suspicions confirmed with an inward grimace. “So go pull it out.”

“Not me.” Lancelot shook his head humbly. “I have no wish to be king.”

“According to this common legend, whoever removes the thing has no choice. As regent, I order you to attempt to pull it out. In fact, let every man, woman and child who desires the chance to rule try their luck! You Sir Geoffrey: As court historian, librarian and every other noun meaning keeper of records, it is your duty to witness and make note of all who fail to withdraw this sword. Gaius will assist you. For my own part I’d consider crowning the fellow who put it there, surely that’s the more astonishing feat!”

__

Dollop head

You started this by trying to turn me into some mythical hero, I’m merely playing along 

Prat!

“That seems a sound strategy my Lord. We can begin immediately.”

“Very good, however Sir Leon, Merlin and I have a prior commitment…”

Merlin heard the faint accent Arthur put on ‘commitment’ and started developing a hard on.

“Perhaps it would be best if the Lady Guinevere and Gaius accompanied Sir Lancelot to this auspicious sword while I formalise these previously discussed arrangements,” Sir Geoffrey suggested mildly.

####  11.17

Ivory forewent the screening, moving directly to the statements of intent. Midnight had no difficulty repeating Noon’s string of Purple promises this time as he was able to read them from his thoughts. Pheasant acted as benefactor to both, deemed their pledges satisfactory and helped Ivory lead them through the house Sir Geoffrey once shared with his wife and son as per tradition. His wife and complement were one in the same. Ebony’s parents formed the Flock as a way to set boundaries upon the excesses of the nobility, and set aside a double room - furthest from those used by the family - specifically for consummation of Fidelity Pacts.

This room, unprepared though it may be, made the one Mahogany took Midnight to appear dingy. It was like comparing Arthur’s bedchamber to Merlin’s. The fires were unlit. Merlin fixed that.

“Burne”

The food platters and water ewers were all empty. Merlin fixed that.

“You can create food? All those vile things you fed me when you can create – food?”

“I only stole it from your chambers. I can only rearrange things Arthur, not create them. I’m not a god.”

Merlin felt firm hands grasp his hips and plump lips press warmly against the back of his neck. Arthur’s breath tickled down Merlin’s shirt. “You are to me.”

He had Merlin’s shirt off by the time they sat upon an oddly shaped divan with an angled backrest and upholstered in darkly alluring red fabric. The material felt soft and sensual against Merlin’s naked back, like Arthur’s lips against his, like Arthur’s hands exploring his skin. Any time Merlin tried to reciprocate Arthur shushed him with a solid grip around his wrist and gentle pressure of teeth against flesh.

“Not yet.”

Merlin’s arousal set his entire body on full alert. Every glancing kiss, every slightest touch, every focussed breath made him alternately yearn for more of the same and the chance for release. Arthur took various parts of Merlin into his mouth before enclosing Merlin’s knob in that damp, warm haven.

Merlin moaned with pleasure. His hands caressed Arthur’s shoulders and neck. How could lips and tongue capable of slicing a man into pieces with snide remarks make him feel like this? Merlin was content for Arthur to continue doing that until the sun rose or he climaxed. Arthur had other ideas. ‘When did he remove his boots?’ Merlin thought briefly as Arthur stood on the divan, feet astride Merlin’s hips. Merlin’s hand began at Arthur’s ankle and…

“Not yet.”

Arthur stood above him with provocative gaze, mask gone – and stripped. Smooth fluid movements unfastened and removed the blue shirt he stole from Merlin. “You can have this back.” He miraculously kept his balance as he removed his lower garments as one item, somehow getting everything to hang on one ankle and kicking it free. Merlin’s erection throbbed heatedly against his abdomen, too hard and heavy to sway in the air. He wanted to touch all of Arthur – so prominently displayed – with his fingers, palms, lips, tongue and cock.

“Remove your Midnight mask. When we are alone I will be with Merlin and no other.”

His mask toppled behind the curved backrest as he sat forward and touched…

…He watched the changes in Arthur’s face as the angle between them shifted. His brilliant eyes closed partially as his feet lifted off the floor, his hands pushed on the divan at either side of Merlin’s head, sending him out of kissing range and fully onto Merlin’s cock with a thud, causing his mouth to open wider in erotic exclamation. Then he would push off the floor with both feet, pull himself forward using the backrest as leverage, tilt his hips and slightly lower his head, mouth closing a little, eyes widening. Then do it all again. The satisfaction caused by the magnificent friction and heat of Arthur riding Merlin’s cock could only be surpassed by Arthur’s flushed, sweaty and miraculous expressions of enjoyment as he did so.

Merlin took his hands from Arthur’s hips, tenderly holding that gorgeous, groaning face and keeping him close enough to kiss deeply. “Cum with me,” he exhaled against the nearest cheek as Arthur’s hips changed rhythm to allow for his restricted bodily movement. “Cover me.”

Arthur pushed away, leaned further back to grasp the divan’s edges beside Merlin’s knees, and locked his ankles under Merlin’s armpits like a carpentry join.

Merlin made sounds of indescribable pleasure, his facial features felt unfamiliar, one arm looped under a raised leg to clutch at the softer space between Arthur’s ribs and hip, the other snaked between Arthur’s legs to fondle his cock while Merlin’s hips lifted and fell of their own accord. He saw his cock diving in and out of Arthur, distorting the ring of muscles to make him fit perfectly. Arthur’s head lolled back, his hair too sweaty to move as they bounced and grunted together. His throat, exposed and vulnerable – Merlin didn’t know where to look. Both ends of Arthur displayed complete submission to his desire for Merlin.

Merlin’s orgasm erupted at that thought and all he saw was the ceiling as his power returned from its crystal prison. His hand became sticky and warm, Arthur’s cum speckled his torso, the cock in his hand became limp and Merlin could only groan one word, once: “God!”

####  11.18

Through two days and two nights the citizenry of Camelot lined up at the amazing stone and one by one attempted to take the sword from its lifeless grasp. Those knights who had already tried remained to assist the two old men with documenting the process and keeping those still waiting under control.

By late afternoon on the third day whispers travelled to the front that the regent had joined the queue, that those before him began to stand aside but he said to keep their place and take their turn because perhaps one of them could be the one the sword waited for.

Another whisper travelled back, a darker whisper for it carried fear of the unknown: What if the Dragon Lord becomes King over us?

Despite their caution the regent caught their murmuring and smiled in response. “Then we have nothing to fear.”

They kept an eye out for the Dragon Lord Merlin but Arthur prepared for that earlier.

“You keep away Merlin. Find somewhere visible to stand in the town and make a spectacle of yourself so none can accuse you of providing unethical assistance.” Arthur frowned in response to Merlin’s ready acquiescence as they left the Flock version of their marital bed. “…I won’t need any will I?”

Merlin quashed any teasing retorts and looked him in the eye. “That blade was forged in a dragon’s breath – for you. Once it feels the touch of your hand it will know with whom it belongs, just as I did.”

Merlin did not need to be there in person, his representative flew above the clouds. Kilgarrah stirred the cloud cover with one wingtip as he felt master and sword greet each other in the moment before hilt met flesh. The last ray of vibrant sun shone onto man, sword and stone and the Great Dragon’s voice followed to be heard by all below.

“Hail Arthur, True King of Camelot!”

As one, the people knelt and their King raised his sword high in grateful acknowledgement.

####  11.19

Merlin had to wait to congratulate Arthur as his compliment rather than king and friend. He waited through the coronation. He waited through Arthur’s wedding to Guinevere, which hurt, but not as much as it would if Merlin had not essentially married him first. He waited through so much official rigmarole that if Arthur had not subconsciously touched the clothes covering their pendant or occasionally smiled in his direction for no reason, he would have felt used and humiliated.

At last they could be together, man to man, two souls in love.

“My champion!” Arthur exclaimed lustfully as Merlin performed mortal miracles inside him.

“Is that my official title?” Merlin teased in gasps as Arthur arched beneath him.

Arthur made the necessary shifts in position to be able to lie completely entwined together. “My champion, my protector, my advisor, my complement, my love,” he separated each phrase with a sensual kiss and an equally delightful touch to a different part of Merlin’s body. “That is your official title.” Merlin sneakily touched him somewhere unexpected during such a tender moment, causing him to buck and cum. “But we may have to shorten it for public use,” Arthur concluded once he could speak clearly. “Do that again.”

“Which bit?”

“All of it.”

Merlin and Arthur knew their time for such intimacy would always be limited, so they ensured every night they shared together would be a night without regret.

####  Epilogue

Merlin’s eyes never leave Arthur’s face as he watches Merlin suck on the pendant and drive deep between Arthur’s legs. The crystal falls out of Merlin's mouth when his head falls forward to announce his orgasm with a deep and prolonged “OAH!”

Arthur experiences that unusual internal climax that occurs when his arse gets more excited than his cock, which is always amplified when it coincides with the physical shock of magical transference. Merlin enjoys how it feels and waits for Arthur’s excitement to ebb before withdrawing and half lying across his King. He holds the pendant up and slides his thumb over it. The look he gives Arthur is positively lecherous.

“I wonder how this will look around your cock…”

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Dear complaints department, ie rose_walker22
> 
> Sorry  
> ha ha ha ha ha ha  
> no really, I am very truly very really honestly sorry about ending like this  
> ... but I still find it funny


End file.
